


To Keep You Safe

by LadyLibby



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Assassination Attempt(s), Bodyguard!John Wick, Canon-Typical Violence, Crime, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Journalism, Love, Mentions of Cancer, Mutual Pining, Newspapers, Past!John/Helen, Romance, Russian Mafia, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The Continental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: “The momentous arrest comes just hours after an incriminating exposé in the New York Times was published this morning by journalist Y/N L/N. Though she’s been relatively unknown until now, I wouldn’t be surprised if hers is a name we’ll be seeing on the front page more often.”“Well knowing the mafia, Karen,” The other commentator said, “Let’s hope we’ll be seeing it in the byline and not in a headline about a mysterious disappearance.”“And with that in mind, let’s move over to our meteorologist–”John turned off the T.V. He took a sip of coffee, continuing to read the comprehensive takedown of the mafia, impressed with the extensive research and investigation.His phone began to ring. But not his cell phone, the sleek black rotary phone in the basement. John walked down to the work bench and picked up the receiver.“John Wick,”“Jonathan,” said the smooth British voice, “I have a job for you.”
Relationships: John Wick/Reader, John Wick/You
Comments: 84
Kudos: 250





	1. The Job

**Author's Note:**

> My first John Wick fic! I've been thinking about this one for a while, an I am so excited to finally get it up and running. We're in for quite the ride, so strap in. :D

The newspaper, bundled with a rubber band, hit the doorstep with a hollow thud. The paperboy was already halfway down the block when the front door opened and John stepped out. Still clad in pajamas, he walked to the mailbox, picking up the paper on his way back, sleep-mussed hair framing his face. 

He carried the bundle inside with the mail, dropping it all on the counter. The grey pitbull skidded down the hallway and into the kitchen, padding across the floor to his master. Bending at the knees, John greeted the animal, scratching behind his ears. 

“Hey, buddy.” The dog licked his face. “Hey there.” 

John filled the dog’s bowl and poured himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the counter. He sorted through the mail and then opened the paper. 

“ _ The Real Rulers of New York: Russian mafia hiding behind taxi business.”  _ Read the headline, above a photo of the mob boss, Uri Kosachenkov. 

_ “New York City is known for many things, among its iconic symbols one might recognize Time’s Square, a yellow taxi cab, or the puppet strings of organized crime. The connection between these symbols can be found beneath the surface of this famous city, in the dealings of Uri Kosachenkov. Rising to prominence as a taxi tycoon, it has long been speculated that he had ties to the mafia, using the symbolic vehicles to transport more than just tourists. Now, there is proof…” _

John put down the paper for a moment, turning on the T.V. to check the news. He was again met by a photo of Uri Kosachenkov, although this one featured a conspicuous pair of handcuffs. 

“The momentous arrest comes just hours after an incriminating exposé in the  _ New York Times _ was published this morning by journalist Y/N L/N. Though she’s been relatively unknown until now, I wouldn’t be surprised if hers is a name we’ll be seeing on the front page more often.” 

“Well knowing the mafia, Karen,” The other commentator said, “Let’s hope we’ll be seeing it in the byline and not in a headline about a mysterious disappearance.” 

“And with that in mind, let’s move over to our meteorologist–” 

John turned off the T.V. He took a sip of coffee, continuing to read the comprehensive takedown of the mafia, impressed with the extensive research and investigation. 

His phone began to ring. But not his cell phone, the sleek black rotary phone in the basement. John walked down to the work bench and picked up the receiver. 

“John Wick,” 

“Jonathan,” said the smooth British voice, “I have a job for you.” 

~

The keyboard clacked as she typed, her fingers flying across the letters. She took a haphazard sip from a lukewarm cup of tea, nodding along to the music in her headphones. Y/N swiveled in her chair, turning to check a pile of notes before returning to the page. She managed to get out another paragraph before her heart leapt into her throat at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. 

She pulled her headphones off, turning around. Kathy, the News Editor, stood behind her desk with her hands on her hips. 

“Jesus, you scared me.” Y/N said, pressing a hand to her chest. 

“I’ve been saying your name for about an hour at this point. Been texting you before that. Where’s your phone?” 

“I silenced it. All the pings were distracting.” She said. 

“Of course. You would be one to find well-deserved praise  _ distracting. _ ” Kathy sighed. “My office, please.” 

“Jack needs coverage of the arrest before–” 

“Now.” 

Y/N saved the document and got up to follow Kathy down the hall. Kathy shut the door behind them.

“What’s going on–?” 

Y/N stopped short at the sight of a tall and imposing figure. He turned around, brown eyes meeting her gaze. Kathy pulled the blinds, shielding them from the rest of the office. The blinds behind her desk remained open, displaying a stunning view of the Manhattan skyline glittering in the spring sunshine.

“This is John Wick. John, this is Y/N.” Kathy introduced. 

He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Y/N nodded, accepting his handshake. 

She took him in, a nagging sense of familiarity in the back of her mind. There was something about him, with his dark suit and broad shoulders, she felt she’d seen before. 

“Jack and Paul and I were talking,” Kathy said, “And we think it would be a good idea for you to, um, we think you need a little extra protection.” 

“Protection?”

“With everything going on with Koshachenkov–” 

“He’s not a threat anymore. They arrested him.” Y/N argued. 

“He’s a threat until his organization is dismantled and he’s in prison. Or dead.” John cut in.

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “And I gather you’re supposed to be my ‘protection?’” 

John nodded. Y/N laughed, incredulous. 

“Kathy, this is ridiculous. The police are already making more arrests within the organization, Kosachenkov is busy mounting a defense for his trial, they’re not going to come after me.” 

“They already have.” 

Y/N turned sharply to look at him. “Excuse me?” 

Kathy looked down, kicked at the carpet with her toe. “We’ve, um, been made aware of several threats against your life.” 

“What?” Y/N breathed. 

“This isn’t going to be permanent. Just until the trial is over and we’re sure the target is off your back. Besides, you’re not getting a huge security detail or anything. We’re confident Mr. Wick can handle it.” 

Y/N sat down heavily in the chair beside Kathy’s desk. She ran a hand through her hair before taking a deep breath. 

She looked John in the eye, “How is this going to work?”

John turned to Kathy. “Her desk in the office layout isn’t ideal in terms of safety. Too open and vulnerable. Is there an empty office she can work in? No exterior windows.” 

“That can be arranged.” Kathy nodded. 

“I will escort you to and from work every day and I will be posted outside your office during the day.” John said. 

Y/N inhaled, a sudden realization striking. “What about at night? You’re not going to–” 

“I will not be staying in your apartment.” He said. “I’ll enhance security in the building and check the space before you enter at the end of the day, but your evenings will still be yours.” 

“But I can’t leave?” 

“I wouldn’t advise it, no.” He said. “If you do, however, I will escort you.” 

“How are you going to sleep?” She asked. “The hallway outside isn’t exactly a nice king sized bed.”

He faltered slightly, as if surprised by the question. “One of my...colleagues will guard your door at night. But I’ll be there to take you to work every morning.” 

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.” 

“This is serious.” John said, straightening up to his full, very intimidating height. “I have two rules that you must follow if you want to stay alive. One: if I tell you to do something, you do it. If I ask you to get behind me or to drop to the floor, you do it. Or you die.” 

He was terrifying, with his slicked back hair and eyes that looked like they’d seen a lot more than the average bodyguard. This was a man who could hurt people. Y/N held his gaze. 

“Two: you do not, under any circumstances, go anywhere without me or without telling me first so I can secure the area. You ditch me, you die. Is that clear?” 

“Yes.” Y/N relented. “Clear as crystal.” 

She stood up, looking at Kathy again. “Can I finish my article? Jack really does need it before lunch.” 

Kathy nodded. “Yeah, I think we’re done here. Mr Wick? Anything else?” 

He shook his head. 

“Right,” Kathy smiled tightly. “I’ll go get that office sorted. You can expect to move in at the end of the day.” 

“Great.” Y/N said, mustering about as much enthusiasm as the stapler on Kathy’s desk. 

She knew it was crazy to expect things to go smoothly with this new arrangement, but Y/N didn’t anticipate her new companion to be quite so...challenging. 

He made no effort to blend in or explain his presence, instead standing against the wall behind her desk and staring down the whole office. No one dared to approach him or Y/N for that matter, which Y/N assumed was his goal. Without a word, he’d managed to isolate her from her friends and colleagues. 

She felt everyone’s not-so-subtle stares when she got up to go to the bathroom and he followed, gaze sweeping the area carefully. He blocked the doorway with his arm before she could go inside. 

“Excuse me.” Y/N said, putting serious effort into keeping her voice level. 

“I have to check the room before you enter.” 

“Oh, Jesus Christ. It’s just the bathroom! Who is–” 

He stared her down, his expression making her want to shrink down into herself. “Rule Number One: if I tell you–” 

“I got it.” She said, crossing her arms. “Just check the stupid room so I can pee. Please.” 

“So how did you become a bodyguard?” Y/N attempted small talk while she unpacked her things into the small office. 

“Your boss hired me yesterday.”

Y/N stopped short, putting down a stack of files. “This is your first job as a bodyguard?” 

He glanced at her over his shoulder from the doorway. “I’m more than qualified.” 

She laughed with little humor. “I’m going to need more than that, Mr. Wick.” 

He didn’t respond, continuing to stare out at the newsroom. 

“So, what? Ex-military? Police? Secret Service?” She pushed. 

“Something like that.” 

Y/N bit her lip, trying to keep her irritation in check. 

Y/N let the mild spring air and the bustling sounds of New York City wash over her as she tried to ignore the looming figure a foot behind her. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, turning down the street to head home. John used his long legs to his advantage, striding in front of her and slightly to the side so his body was between Y/N and the steady stream of rush hour traffic. At the corner, he put his hand on her elbow, steering her right instead of straight. 

She pulled her arm out of his grip, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “What are you doing? My apartment is that way.” 

“You need to establish a pattern of non-patterns. These people will know how you get to work and how you get home. You’re most vulnerable in the moments in between, when you’re leaving or going somewhere. You have to change your routine.” 

Y/N gripped the strap of her bag tightly, jaw clenched. Before she let her emotions get the better of her, Y/N continued walking in the direction he’d steered her towards. If she had to go three blocks out of the way, at least the weather was nice. Well, nice except for the dark cloud following her everywhere. 

Back home, Y/N waited in the hallway while John checked every nook and cranny of her apartment. Absently, she hoped she hadn’t left anything particularly embarrassing around. Her annoyance quickly took over, though, when she remembered that this was her own space and if he didn’t like an unwashed mug or a pile of clean underwear waiting to be put away he could go– 

“It’s clear.” John reappeared at the doorway. 

“Thanks.” She managed, brushing past him. 

Y/N took off her shoes, dropping her bag on the sofa. She moved to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to boil. John stood in the doorway, filling it with his imposing frame. In the fading light of the evening, he looked softer, less severe. She noticed a few flecks of grey in his neatly trimmed beard.

“I will wait outside until Ryan arrives for the night.” 

“Sounds good.” 

John hesitated for a moment, and Y/N thought he might say something. He turned around and left without another word, closing the front door. 

Y/N exhaled, releasing some tension from the long day. She stared at the door, wrestling with her thoughts. After a moment, she gave in. Y/N walked back over to the sofa and dug out her laptop. She flipped it open, typing two words into the search bar: “John Wick.”


	2. Rules

_ “Ellie Morgan, features editor. 32 years old. 5’2”. Brown hair. Green eyes. No known connection to the mafia.  _

_ Dave Louis, arts correspondent. 28 years old. 6’1”. Dark blonde hair. Brown eyes. No known connection to the mafia. _

_ Marconne Martell, features editor. 43 years old…”  _

John sat at the kitchen table, thumbing through profiles while he sipped his coffee. His dog lay at his feet, confused why they’d been getting up for their walk before the sun so often lately. 

_ “Kathy Combs, news editor. 46 years old. 5’5”. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. No known connection to the mafia.”  _

John checked his watch, flipping back to Y/N’s profile. She was smiling in her photo, an expression she had yet to fix on him in the days they’d spent together so far. He sighed, downing the rest of his coffee. Checking that the doggy door was unlocked and the food bowl was full, he patted his canine companion on the head. 

“See you later, buddy.” 

John got into his car, the engine rumbling as he pulled out of the driveway and took off. He watched the sun rise as he crossed the bridge, ready to face another day of work. 

~

Y/N groaned at the too-bright sunlight sneaking through the cracks in her blinds. She hugged her pillow against her head in the faint hope it might quell her pounding headache. Across the apartment, someone rapped their knuckles against the door. 

“Too loud…” She muttered, sitting up with an enormous amount of effort. 

They knocked again. 

“Coming!” She called, shuffling to the door. 

Y/N swung it open, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm. “Mmmm–hi. What?” 

His black clad chest pushed her back as John walked in, already frowning. “Did you even check to see who was out there before you opened the door?” 

“I knew it was you.” She said through a mouth that felt like it was stuffed with cotton. 

“No, you didn’t. You don’t know unless you check.” He said, irritated.

“Sorry. I’ll check next time.” She said, mostly to placate him.

He took in her appearance, and had she not been focused on the incessant pounding behind her skull, she might have noticed the smile tugging at his lips. 

“What happened to you?” 

Y/N looked down, noticing her absurd attire. She had a mis-matched pair of socks, one reaching her knee and the other barely covering her foot. Her shorts were part of a pajama set, but sported a pattern of cartoon snowmen that decidedly did not match the pale pink blouse she had on top. 

“Hmmm.” She blinked. “Tequila. I think. Don’t really remember.” 

“I didn’t realize ‘The Great British Baking Show’ was such an event.” 

“It’s not. I went out.” She said, turning on the coffee machine. 

“What?” 

“I went–oh.” She stopped, her brain catching up with her mouth. “Right.” 

John had what Y/N had less than lovingly dubbed his “Murder Look” on. He stalked closer to her, severe and scary. 

“Ryan was with me the whole time! Some friends from work wanted to go out and celebrate my article and I wanted some time to actually have fun for once–” 

“Rule Number Two.” He said, voice low. 

“Nothing happened! Except for this  _ delightful _ hangover, I am fine!” 

He moved closer, practically pinning her to the counter. “Rule Number Two. Say it.” 

“‘Do not, under any circumstances, go anywhere without you or without telling you.’” Her eyes flashed in challenge. “Ryan was–” 

“Finish it.” 

“‘I ditch you, I die.’” She said, quieter. 

He pulled back, pacing out of the kitchen. “I have to make a phone call. I’ll be outside when you’re ready to go.” 

Y/N leaned back against the counter, a sudden wave of guilt gnawing at her as the coffee dripped slowly into her mug. 

By six o’clock that evening Ryan was conspicuously missing from his post. Gina, a woman of no words at all, took his place for the weeks to come. 

~

John always liked to stand in front of her and slightly to the side. Not quite blocking her view, but making his job title clear to anyone and everyone who looked at them. 

He even did it in elevators when they were the only two people around. Y/N nudged him with her shoulder as the floors ticked down one by one above his head. 

“I think I should get some rules too.” 

He cast a confused glance over his shoulder. 

“You have your two rules. I think I should have some too.” She said. 

The doors opened with a soft ding. He walked out without a word. 

“Like, for example, you have to answer one of my questions.” 

“I do answer your questions.” He said, sounding almost offended. 

“No, I mean, whenever I ask you about  _ you _ , you blow me off. Or you do that silent broody thing you do.” 

“Silent broody thing?” 

“You do!” She lengthened her stride to walk next to him as they left her apartment building, grabbing his arm to get him to stop for a second. “Anyway, I think you should answer one of them every day. Just one. You can even pick.” 

“Why?” 

“I mean, you kind of took over my life. I know they probably gave you my life in a page and a half and you’ve quite literally seen my dirty laundry. So I think it’s only fair that you answer one question every day. We have to spend all day together...” She met his gaze. “So we may as well try to be friends.” 

John considered her words for a moment. He’d even opened his mouth to reply when his eyes widened at something he saw over her shoulder. John became a blur of black. A shadow flashing across the pavement as he grabbed her shoulders and spun, taking Y/N’s place and curving his body around her as he reached back to grab his gun. 

“Hey, woah–!” A man in a tan jacket stumbled backwards, paling at the sight of John and the barrel of his gun aimed directly at the guy’s face. 

“Hands where I can see them.” John barked. 

A young mother yelped at the sight, ushering her son down the sidewalk as fast as she could. 

“What the–” Y/N stepped forward. 

“Stay there!” John ordered. 

She took a step back, heart pounding against her ribs like a caged animal. 

“Don’t move. What were you reaching for?” John kept the gun raised as he searched the man’s pockets for a weapon. 

“My phone. I was reaching for my phone, I swear.” 

John pulled out the phone, gave it a once-over, before checking the pocket again. He pulled out a small baggie of white powder. 

“What’s this?” 

“Are you a cop? You have to tell me if you’re a cop. You’re not allowed to search me if you’re not and–” 

John was way past his Murder Look at this point, grabbing the man by his lapels and practically lifting him off the ground. “What. Is. This?” 

“C-cocaine. It’s cocaine.” 

John let him go, roughly shoving him away. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see you near her ever again.” 

“Can I have my–actually no, nevermind.” The guy muttered, walking away as quickly as possible. 

John tucked the gun away again, scanning the street before turning back to Y/N. His fingers wrapped around her arm, leading her to a sleek classic car parked on the curb. 

“Get in. I’m driving you to work.” 

“What–” 

“Get in.” 

Shaking slightly, she obeyed, sliding into the passenger’s seat. He ran around to the other door, getting in and peeling out of the parking space without even buckling his seatbelt. Silence blanketed them for two blocks, until he pulled to a stop at a red light. 

“What are you going to do with the cocaine?” She asked. 

“Getting it tested. It might not be what he said it is. He was reaching for something while making a beeline for you. Could be…” He glanced at her. “I’m getting it tested.” 

“Would you have killed him? If he had tried to hurt me?” 

John’s grip tightened slightly on the wheel as they started moving again. “One question.” 

“What?” 

“I only have to answer one question about myself a day. I just did.” 

Y/N smiled as she watched the city pass by through the car window. 

~

Y/N opened her office door, poking her head out. “I’m going out for lunch today.” 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know yet.” She said, leaning her hip against the door frame. “What kind of food do you like?” 

The question took him off guard enough that he turned around entirely to look at her. 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” She smiled. “What kind of food do you like?” 

“Um...I like steak.” 

“ _ Men _ .” Y/N laughed. “Okay, let’s get steak.” 

He drove her to a restaurant in Brooklyn that was all brick, glass, and rustic lighting. Y/N felt immediately underdressed with her blouse and beat-up Converse. John didn’t seem to notice, getting out of the car and moving around to open her door for her before she’d finished unbuckling. If Y/N didn’t think it was part of his job description, she would have found it quite chivalrous. 

“Mr. Wick,” The hostess greeted, “Your usual table?”

“Ah, no thank Mandy. The table at the corner of the patio, please.” 

“Follow me.” She smiled. 

They settled outside, on either side of a table. Y/N smiled politely as Mandy listed the specials and handed them menus. 

“Outside? Isn’t that more vulnerable than indoors? I think you’re losing your touch, Mr. Wick.” 

“This is the most well-protected part of the patio in terms of contact points. If something were to happen, you have the best chance of running and getting away from any hostile out here than you do in there.” He said. “Also the weather is nice today.” 

Y/N nearly choked on her water. She cleared her throat, busying herself with finding the least expensive item on the menu to order. 

When Mandy returned with a pitcher of water and two glasses, Y/N ordered a simple salad. 

“She’ll also have a cheeseburger.” John said. 

“What, no–” 

“I have been with you at every meal for the last three weeks.” He turned to Mandy. “Bring her a cheeseburger, please.” 

Y/N crossed her arms, trying not to show her embarrassment as John proceeded to order what was probably the most expensive thing on the menu. Mandy smiled and collected their menus. 

“What was that?” 

“A salad isn’t enough. You need protein. If you don’t eat right–” 

“Let me guess,” Y/N cut him off, smiling at him in challenge. “I die? You know, you’re always on my case about being less predictable, but you have your own patterns, Mr. Wick.” 

“John.” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Call me John.” He said.

“John.” She tried it out. “Johnny. Jonathan.” 

“Don’t make me take it back now.” 

She grinned, leaning back in her chair. “So John, are you rich?” 

Now it was his turn to choke on his water. “Excuse me?” 

“Are you rich?” She asked. “All the evidence is there: fancy car, nice suits, regular at a restaurant that serves appetizers worth half my monthly rent…” 

“I’m...comfortable.” He said. 

“Oh my God! That’s exactly what a rich person would say!” 

He looked down, red creeping up his neck. Y/N realized she liked him. He could be nice and fun when he wasn’t barking orders and standing like a stone statue. In fact, he was rather gorgeous in the soft light of spring, with his dark hair and a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Y/N smiled, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand. “To make it up to you, you get to ask me.” 

“If you’re rich?” 

“No,” She laughed. “Just a question.” 

He thought for a moment. “Cats or dogs?” 

“I like cats a lot, but my mom is allergic so we could never have one. We had the sweetest border collie when I was a kid, Rusty. He’s probably the reason I like dogs better. I wanted to get another dog when I moved here but the job can get kind of...well, you’ve seen the hours. What about you?” 

“I already answered my question for today.” 

“Nope. Overruled.” 

“Overruled?” He tilted his head. 

“I made the rule, so I get to overrule. You didn’t answer any questions yesterday, so it rolls over into today. Cats or dogs?” 

“Dogs.” He said. 

“Elaborate, please.” 

“You are awfully demanding today.” 

“I said ‘please.’” She argued. 

“I also like dogs more, um, just always have. I, uh, I have one. A pitbull.” He said. 

“What’s its name?” 

“He, um,” John shifted slightly. “He doesn’t have one.” 

Y/N leaned forward, curious. “What do you call him?” 

“Dog. Sometimes buddy.” 

“Huh.” She said. “I like that…‘Buddy.’” 

Silence fell around them again, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind and the distant sound of traffic in the city beyond. 

“You’re not going to ask another question?” 

“Nope.” Y/N said. “You only had one rollover. I may be the rulemaster, but I’m not a tyrant.” 

“Could have fooled me.” 

“Hey!” 

He chuckled, and she smiled back at him. 


	3. The Trial

John sank into his couch with a sigh. His dog padded over immediately, curling up next to him with his head in his master’s lap. John smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. His phone buzzed against his pocket. 

He sat up. “Are you alright?” 

“Hello to you too.” He could hear her smiling. “I’m fine. I just called because Joy and Annie invited me out tonight.” 

“Where?” 

“The Red Lotus. It’s on Forty-fifth and Harmon.” She said. 

He walked into his office, looking up the restaurant and scanning the floorplan and photos. 

“Gina stays with you the whole time, and you sit close to the kitchen. That’s your exit if anything happens.” He instructed. 

“Okay.” She said. “Thanks. Um, sorry for calling you on your off-hours, I just haven’t been out with my friends lately–” 

“It’s fine. Rule Number Two.” 

“Rule Number Two.” Y/N agreed. “Okay, see you tomorrow.” 

His phone rang again several hours later. He fumbled for it in the dark, brushing hair out of his face. One look at the caller ID had him on his feet, alert. 

“Y/N?” 

“John.” Her voice was quiet. 

“Where are you?” He asked, thundering down the stairs. 

“I’m home.” 

“Are you safe?” He pulled on his leather jacket, grabbing his car keys. 

“Yeah, ‘course I’m safe. Gina’s outside.” 

John stopped. “Are you drunk?” 

“Just a bit. Not as bad as that night with the tequila but I’m...warm.” She said, voice gentle and lilting. “If I told you I wasn’t safe, were you going to drive all the way over here?” 

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Jesus. Your job is...your job is crazy. I can’t believe I complained about you taking over my life. That’s so much easier than giving up your life for someone else.” 

“I’ve done worse.” He admitted. 

“Does Buddy mind? Being without you all day?” 

John chuckled, shrugging off the jacket and walking back upstairs. “He gets through. I walk him every morning and when I get home.” 

“John…” Y/N hesitated. “I’m sorry about Helen.” 

He froze, his knuckles white against the railing. 

“I looked you up that first night. Never could resist a bit of research, and, um, I saw the obituary. I know it’s not my place but I know what it’s like to lose someone...like that and I’m sorry. I don’t know, I don’t think you hear this enough or from me at all, but...You— you’re a good man, John.” 

His voice came out in a whisper. “You should go to bed, Y/N. It’s late.” 

“Yeah, okay. Sleep well, John.” 

“Good night, Y/N.”

John only managed a few fitful hours of sleep before he rose to take the dog out. His mind was plagued with memories. First Helen on the beach, smiling at him over her shoulder. But soon she began to blur and fade gently, kissing him on the cheek. 

“It’s okay, John.” Helen murmured, pulling away. 

He let her go, rolling onto his side as the dream changed. Y/N sat across from him, teasing him. She smiled at him from the passenger seat of his car, reaching for his hand. 

“You’re a good man, John.”

~

Y/N let him into her apartment like usual in the morning, but couldn’t quite meet his gaze. She listened silently while he ran through the route they would take to the office that day, running a brush through her still drying hair. Finally, she couldn’t ignore the hulking elephant in the room any longer. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/N blurted. 

John looked down at the ground, “It’s fine, Y/N.” 

“No, it’s not.” She said, stepping closer until he looked at her. “I shouldn’t have looked you up the first place, let alone called you last night and said all that...stuff. It was completely inappropriate and out of line. I am so, so sorry. Is there anything I can do to make this up to you?” 

“Turnabout.” 

“What?” 

“Turnabout. I get to ask you a question, and you answer.” 

Y/N squared her shoulders. “Okay.” 

“Why did you become a reporter?” 

A sad, soft sort of look fell across her face. It was the emergence of a grief she’d fought and handled and carried with her always, the same look he saw in himself when he looked in the mirror. 

“My parents, they, um, they ran the local paper back in my hometown.  _ The Town Gazette. _ ” She said, smiling wistfully. “Not much ever happened, and all the articles were about local businesses, book clubs, kid’s soccer games, that kind of thing. Dad always said that anything could be news if you looked at it the right way. He started the paper. Mom wanted to be an investigative journalist. At bedtime I’d hear about Woodward and Bernstein instead of the Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Anyway, she met my dad and gave up that dream to have a family and a quiet life with him. We were...we were happy.” 

Y/N paused, twisting her hands together. 

“Mom, um, Mom got sick when I was thirteen. Breast cancer. She fought for a long time. She was so strong….” Y/N swallowed, “but she got weaker and weaker until she just couldn’t fight anymore. She died when I was sixteen.” 

Y/N wiped a tear from her cheek. John stepped closer, as if to reach out and touch her. 

“I’d been writing her articles for a while,” Y/N continued, “She was my first editor. She, um, she told me that I had it and that I couldn’t waste it. I couldn’t get stuck like she did. So I didn’t. After college I moved to the city and...well, I’m sure she always wanted her daughter to be the kind of journalist with the mafia after her. She’d like that kind of thing.” 

Y/N managed a laugh, eyes shining as she looked back at John. “She’d like you too, you know.” 

“Yeah?” He brushed away her tears with his thumb. 

“Yeah. She’d say ‘Who is that dangerous looking fellow? He’s absolutely  _ gorgeous.’  _ That was her favorite word. ‘Gorgeous.’” Y/N said. 

John raised an eyebrow. “Gorgeous?” 

“Hey, she said it, not me.” Y/N teased, before exhaling shakily as the soft, sad look returned. 

John pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She closed her eyes, returning the warm embrace. 

“Thank you for telling me.”

~

A commotion in the newsroom broke Y/N’s focus. She heard people talking and moving around in a frenzy. John remained outside her door, however, so nothing could be terribly amiss. Still, Y/N’s curiosity was piqued. 

“What’s going on?” She asked John, standing next to him and surveying the office.

Mark paced back and forth on the phone while Martin frantically shoving papers and folders from Mark’s desk into his bag. Several desks away, Ellie and Marconne whispered to one another. Paul and Jack stood off to the side in what appeared to be another one of their arguments. 

“Mark’s wife is giving birth.” John said. “He’s leaving for the hospital now.” 

“Oh my God,” Y/N’s eyes widened. “She wasn’t due for another two weeks.” 

“Hang on,” She said after a moment. “He’s been covering the Kosachenkov Trial. Who’s–” 

Jack and Paul finished speaking and Paul made a beeline for Y/N. She backed into the office. 

“Tell him I’m not here.” 

“What? He just saw you.” John said, bemused. 

“John, please–oh, hi Paul, how are you?” 

Y/N shot John a glare over Paul’s shoulder when she heard him chuckling. 

“I’ve been better,” Paul said. “I have an assignment for you. Mark is–” 

“Simultaneously experiencing the best and most anxiety-inducing day of his life.” She said. “Don’t give me the story, Paul.” 

The managing editor sighed. “I need you to cover the trial.” 

“No, you need  _ someone _ to cover it. Not me. I cannot be in a room with those people. I know what they did, Paul, I’ve looked at nothing but pictures of the horrible things they’ve done and heard nothing but what countless lives they’ve ruined. I don’t want to do that again.” 

“No one knows the story like you do.” Paul said.

“It can’t be safe.” She pointed out. “Half the people in that courtroom will want to kill me. It’s not safe, right, John?” 

John opened his mouth, but Paul cut him off. “It’s a major case, Y/N. They state and city have supplied extra security. Look, I know you’re not their favorite person in the world but the ones in the courthouse are under too much scrutiny to try anything and that guy—the assassin, Babushka?” 

“Babyaga.” Y/N corrected. 

In her periphery, she saw John stiffen.

“Whatever. Look, he only did hits  _ on  _ Kosachenkov’s men. Not for them. Besides, you have John. No one is going to touch you in that courthouse, I promise.” 

“I’m not taking the story.” 

“I wasn’t asking!” Paul shouted. “You’re doing it, or you’re fired. How about that?” 

“I think you should leave this office now.” John stepped into the room, Murder Look in full effect. “I’ll need to speak with the security team at the courthouse before she gets anywhere near there.” 

“Fine, fine.” Paul waved his hands, “Just make sure she’s there on time.” 

As they watched Paul leave the little office, Y/N wasn’t sure who looked more frightening, her or John. 

“Has Paul always been such an asshole?” 

Y/N laughed, continuing to review her notes from her original research on the organization. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” She wrinkled her nose at a particularly gruesome crime scene photo.

“I don’t remember that from when he hired me.” 

“Well, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re kind of scary.” Y/N looked up and smiled at him.

“Do I scare you?” John managed a casual tone, glancing at the file in her lap. 

Y/N looked at John for a moment, considering her answer. John and his dark suits, forbidding expression and mysterious past that somehow qualified him to be a one-man security team. 

“Nope.” She said. “You were a little intimidating at first, but you don’t scare me. Anyone who gets up before dawn just to spend time with his dog could never scare me.” 

“I should never have told you that.” He shook his head, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. 

“Don’t be grumpy, old man,” Y/N patted his shoulder. “We’re friends now. Friends aren’t afraid of each other.” 

“Yeah…” John turned back to the newsroom, grappling with his thoughts. 

~

The sky was just changing from orange and pink to pale blue as John crossed the George Washington Bridge into the city. His phone began to ring. 

“Hey, Jimmy.” 

“Hey, John,” The police officer greeted, “I have the results of that substance test.” 

“Was it cocaine?” 

“No, um, it was only about an eighteenth cocaine. The rest was a mixture of arsenic and a neurotoxin our lab couldn’t identify. Pretty lethal stuff, according to our CSI Unit. Lucky you didn’t touch it.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for running the test, Jimmy.” 

“No problem, John.” 

John hung up, frustration boiling in his blood. He slammed the steering wheel with his palms, setting off the horn. 

“Fuck!” 

John insisted that they take a taxi to the courthouse. He explained that his car was too conspicuous and he could more easily protect her if they both sat in the backseat of a vehicle, but she wasn’t listening. She just nodded silently, trusting his judgement. 

Y/N watched the city pass by without really seeing any of it. She fiddled with her pen, unscrewing it and tightening it before unscrewing it again. She did this for a few minutes before a warm hand covered her own. Y/N looked up, surprised. John didn’t say anything, he just kept a gentle grip on her, anchoring her, until they reached the courthouse. 

He led the way, keeping her slightly behind him while she flashed her press credentials and headed inside. She took several deep breaths outside the courtroom while John spoke to the police officer guarding the door, preparing herself. 

Her throat tightened at the first sight of the crowded room. John led her to a seat next to the door on the end of the row without too much trouble, but after only a few minutes, people began to take notice. Heads turned in her direction, lips whispered and murmured. She caught a few dirty looks as well as some pitying stares from the rest of the press corps. 

A flitting phrase in Russian reached her ears, drawing her attention to a huddle of mafia associates by the lawyer’s benches. They glanced over every few seconds, dark intent clear on their faces. 

Then one of them froze, eyes widening at something off to her right. He nudged his comrades, muttering. A hushed whisper of “John Wick,” ran through the room, making anyone in the room connected to Uri Kosachenkov straighten and avoid looking towards the back corner. Y/N turned, opening her mouth to ask John if he knew them when the clerk spoke. 

“All rise.” She got to her feet as the judge entered in a shuffle of black fabric. 

And so it began. 

_ “Mafia godfather Uri Kosachenkov’s trial continued Wednesday as the jury heard testimony from two witnesses: Dr. Ronald Kominkas and Kirstin Helstone, both former associates of Kosachenkov’s. Thus far the defense has taken an offensive strategy, although the prosecution is proving difficult to refute…”  _

For the first few days of Y/N’s coverage of the trial, the accused Uri Kosachenkov had too much to worry about with the expert work of the prosecution to pay much attention to the  _ New York Times _ reporter in the back that had ruined his entire life. 

His friends, on the other hand, spent more time with their eyes on her than on the court proceedings. Sure, they magically parted like the Red Sea when they saw John coming, but once all the oaths were sworn, Y/N could feel their glares. 

One in particular, Uri’s son Alexei, was quite angry at her presence. They only managed three days before the shit hit the fan. 

It started when the prosecution played a recording she’d taken in an interview the police had then taken as evidence of the witness recounting one of Uri’s more horrible deeds. Alexei had stiffened in his seat, his breathing becoming more difficult to control as he clenched his fists. Then, during a recess, one of the other reporters came over and – rather loudly – complimented her on her journalistic skills. The last straw came towards the end of the day, while the jury squirmed and tried not to vomit at the sight of some particularly graphic crime scene photos. By the time the judge called it a day, anyone and everyone could see the steam coming out of Alexei’s ears. 

Ever observant, John grabbed Y/N’s bag and got her out the door as quickly as he could. But not quick enough. Alexei stormed out after them, red-faced and screaming. 

“You must be brave or stupid, coming here after what you did!” Alexei spat, reaching out to grab Y/N. “Bitch!” 

John moved faster, shoving the criminal backwards. “Move away from her. Now.” 

The expression that overcame John’s face was far from the Murder Look. He looked like he wanted to tear Alexei apart, one limb at a time. And he would do it, too. 

“Вы заслуживаете друг друга,” Alexei smiled, eyes wild. “Babyaga.” 


	4. The Truth

Silence hung between them, a taught chord connecting their bodies as John and Y/N made their way back to the office and then her apartment. She didn’t yell at him, she didn’t look at him directly. She didn’t even ask him her silly questions. 

Just silence. 

John hated it. She knew. He knew she knew. There was no mistaking what Alexei had said or the look of realization that had crossed her face. 

He wanted her to challenge him, to tease him, to beg for an explanation. Instead she moved with the fluidity of an automaton, typing her notes into an article and sending it to Kathy for proofing, gathering her things, getting into his car, getting in the elevator, waiting outside while he checked her apartment. 

To an outsider, nothing seemed amiss–he was just a bodyguard doing his job while she did hers. No unnecessary conversation needed. 

But to him it was agony. 

Their friendship had been an unexpected luxury he’d long-since become accustomed to. The banter, smiles, and conversation made him, for the first time in a long time, actually  _ want  _ to go to work. To her, he wasn’t the Boogeyman. He wasn’t a killing machine with murder in his veins. He was John. Just John. And it had felt so good. 

He should have known it wouldn’t last. 

“All clear.” His dismay crept into his tone as he walked back towards the door, stepping aside so she could come in. 

Y/N stepped inside her home, which seemed somehow too small, too cramped for the thoughts swirling in her head. As she dropped her bag on the sofa, she decided to finally say something. Then she turned and decided against it. 

Y/N walked to the kitchen quickly, turned on the kettle and then marched back again, ready to speak. John hovered by the door like a big awkward giant. He fidgeted with his hands a bit, those hands that had killed  _ so many _ people. Y/N kept her mouth shut. 

“I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, turning to go. 

Y/N bit her lip, frustration making her itchy and restless. 

“Wait.” 

John stopped. 

“I just–” She twisted away and then twisted back, taking a few steps toward him. “I just–when I look at you, I see my friend. I see John. John who laughs with me and protects me and is  _ a good man _ . But all I can think about is the photos of the Kosachenkov warehouse in 2006 after…”

His shoulders slumped as he turned back to her, far from the tall terrifying assassin who scared any and every criminal shitless.

“All I can think about is the blood and the bullet holes and I–oh my God, Ryan and Gina too, right?” She raked a hand through her hair. “I don’t really know what to do, John.” 

John took a tentative step closer. “You don’t have to. I’ll–I’ll have a police officer friend take over as your primary protection and I’ll find–” 

“No.” Y/N cut him off. “No, we’re not–that’s–we’re not doing that.” 

“Okay…” John trailed off, at a loss. 

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Look, let’s–can we talk about this? Can  _ you _ talk about your...other job?”

“Yes.” He said quickly, taking another step forward. “If that’s what you want.”

She nodded towards the sofa. “Sit. I’ll make tea and then we’ll talk.” 

“Okay.” 

John waited in the living room while Y/N went back to the kitchen and poured two steaming mugs of tea. She came back, sitting on the other end of the sofa, facing him. He put his mug aside on the table, watching the steam curl above the liquid. 

“Tell me.” 

“What…?” 

“Everything you can tell me. If we’re going to...I want to know how it started. And what you do. And why.” She said. “Please tell me.” 

He met her gaze. “Okay.” 

While his tea grew cold on the coffee table, he told her about growing up in the mob, an orphan from Belarus adopted by the formidable woman known as “the Director.” He told her about joining the Marines and his time in service. She let him spare the more gorey details, but insisted that he tell her about the many years of work that followed, under the guidance of Marcus and then on his own, working for the highest bidder. He told her how he became the best in the business: the Babyaga. Until he got out. 

“Did Helen know?” She asked quietly. 

He looked away for a moment. “No. No, she didn’t.” 

“Why did you come back?” 

Eyes shining, he told her the rest–about Daisy and the Tarasovs, ex-communication, and finally redemption. By the time he was finished, Y/N realized she’d been crying. She sniffed, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand. 

“One more question: Why did you take  _ this _ job? Why did you agree to protect me?” 

A smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t.” 

She tilted her head, confused. 

“I didn’t take this job.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The morning your article was published I got a call about a job. The Kosachenkovs were offering 20 million for your death.” 

Y/N’s eyes widened. 

“You–you…” 

“The Kosachenkovs have needed a beating like this for too long, and you’re the reason it’s finally happening. So I went to your office and spoke to Paul, Jack and Kathy. And...you know the rest.” 

“You’re lying.” Y/N said, getting up off the couch. 

“I’m not.” He said. 

She paced back over, taking his face in her hands and making him look up at her. His gaze was clear, certain, and steady. 

“You...you were supposed to kill me.” Y/N breathed. “You still could.” 

“I won’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Not enough money.” 

Y/N pushed him away gently, smiling despite the tears shining in her eyes again. “I can’t believe you’re cracking jokes right now.” 

“Look at me.” He stood up, grasping her shoulders. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. If they so much as touch you, you know what I’ll do to them. You’re safe, Y/N. I’m going to keep you safe.” 

Y/N faltered, staring into his brown eyes, looking for a moment like she’d argue with him again. But she didn’t. She just wrapped her arms around him in an embrace, pressing her face into his shoulder. He didn’t hesitate to envelope her in an even tighter embrace. She trembled slightly with emotion, tears disappearing in the dark material of his suit. 

“It’s okay,” He said. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

“I know. I know I’m okay.” She said, pulling back enough to look at him. “But what about you? How can I protect you? I–no one was there when Helen...and Daisy...and when they were all after you...and it must have been so awful and I’m sorry...I’m so sorry, John.” 

He looked like she’d punched him in the face, he was so surprised. Then his expression melted into something warm and soft and something very close to loving. John tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers brush her cheek gently. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.  _ I’m  _ the one who should be apologizing.” 

“I’m glad you told me.” She said softly, her nose nearly bumping his. “And I forgive you.” 

Y/N remained there for a moment, tilting towards him like a piece of metal left too close to a magnet, confused and exited in equal measure. 

“Good,” He breathed, his eyes flicking to her lips and back.

She smoothed the lapel of his jacket with her hand. “Turnabout.” 

“What?” 

“I asked you at least three more questions than I was supposed to today. So you get to ask me some.” 

John leaned down slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll save them for another time. You need to go to bed.” 

Y/N stepped back, reluctant to let his arms fall away from her. “Right. Buddy probably misses you.” 

“Yeah…” John walked slowly to the door. “Good night, Y/N.” 

“Good night, John.” Y/N smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

~

It was a relatively quiet day in the newsroom. Court wouldn’t be in session again for two days, so Y/N finally had time to catch up on a few other pieces she was working on. She typed away at her desk just like everyone else in the office. John stood by the door in his usual spot, calmly sweeping the area with his gaze. 

John started suddenly as music began to blast from the room behind him. He turned in confusion, only to find Y/N on her feet, dancing. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Dancing.” She said, moving to the other end of the space and back, swinging her hips. “Haven’t you ever heard of it?”

“But why are you–” 

“It’s called a dance break!” She laughed, shimmying closer to him. “I need it if I’m going to focus enough to finish this stupid article by the end of today.” 

“Alright.” He said wanly, turning back around so she wouldn’t see the smile spreading across his face. 

“John…” She said as the next song began. “I think bodyguards deserve a dance break too.” 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of what a bodyguard is supposed to do.” 

Y/N bounced on the balls of her feet, shaking her head with the drums. “Oh, I get it.” 

“What?” 

“You can’t dance.” 

“What–no, I can dance.” He argued, turning back. 

“It’s okay. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know that’s something that happens when a man gets older…” She teased, backing further into her office. 

“Right.” He set his jaw. “One song.” 

Y/N grinned triumphantly as her office door shut behind him. He just stood there for a moment, his back against the door. 

“Well?” Y/N prompted, continuing to dance. 

Almost imperceptibly at first, his shoulders began to move, shrugging up and down a few times until he started stepping closer to the beat of the song. Y/N laughed in pure joy, hopping around him as he began to really get into it. 

Warmth spread through her chest as she pictured him in a living room, dancing like this in his pajamas with two adorable dark-haired children dancing beside him. She didn’t have long to dwell on where  _ that _ thought had come from when his larger hand grabbed her own, spinning her. 

She laughed again, spinning out a few feet away. She mimed a lasso, throwing it out to him and pulling him in. He approached, putting his hands on her hips while hers fell around his neck for the last few notes until the song ended in a crescendo. 

They stayed there a moment, grinning madly and catching their breath as a slower song began. John’s eyes crinkled and he actually looked relaxed for the first time since they’d met all those weeks ago. 

“Well!” Y/N backed up, turning down the music to a reasonable level. “I was wrong. You can dance.” 

“Let that be a reminder the next time you doubt me.” 

Y/N held up her hands in surrender. “I deeply apologize, Mr. Wick.” 

“I accept your apology.” He said. “Just this once.” 

“Yeah?” She stepped closer, puffing out her chest and trying to look scary. “That a threat?” 

“Are you scared?” He said, voice low. 

“Of you? Nah. You seem pretty harmless.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. 

The teasing lilt dropped from his tone as John studied her face. “Only to those I care about.” 

Taken off guard, Y/N’s next quip died on her lips, becoming something stuttered and incoherent. Heat crept up her neck at the intensity of his gaze. Her gaze wandered down to his lips, and she wondered if they were as soft as they looked. 

“John, I–” 

A sharp rap sounded on her office door. Y/N dashed to switch off the music entirely, opening the door. Kathy stood on the other side, arms crossed. She smiled wryly, gaze moving between Y/N and John before settling back on the reporter. 

“Have a minute to talk about yesterday’s draft?” 

“Yeah, of course. Your office?” Y/N said. 

“Perfect.” 

They walked through the newsroom together. Back in Kathy’s office, Y/N took a seat while John stood by the door. Grey clouds rolled outside the window, gathering across the sky like an overcast blanket. 

“Okay, so overall the piece looks good. There were just a few instances where I felt like you were starting to lose your impartiality.” Kathy said getting up to grab a piece of paper from a file box on her shelf “I’ve underlined them for you.. I know this is a personal case for you, but you really are the best one for the job so keep an eye–” 

As she moved back to sit down, the glass of her window shattered inward. Shards flew forward as Kathy fell across her desk, blood splattering. Y/N screamed, scrambling backwards and knocking the chair over. John moved faster, pulling her to the floor and covering her body with his. 

“Sniper!” 

John kept his voice level, his chest pressing against her back. “We’re going to crawl out of this office together, okay? Once you’re out that door we run to the elevator.” 

“K-Kathy. I need to–” 

“I need to get you out of here. Someone in the newsroom is already calling 9-1-1. But I need to keep you safe. Do you understand?” 

Y/N nodded, shaking. 

“Okay, let’s go.” 

John crouched beside her, shielding her from the window as they stayed low to the ground. Once they reached the threshold he held her arm in a death grip and ran. Just an inch from where her head had been, another bullet struck the doorway, splintering wood in its wake. 


	5. The Continental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Life is getting pretty crazy so I might have to take a bit of a hiatus. I'm sorry and I'll try to be back soon! <3

From his head to his toes, John’s body thrummed with energy. He moved with one purpose: protect her. On the street outside, he dashed to his car with her pressed to his side, acting as a shield. To his relief, she listened to him, following every order he gave–to run, to lay on the backseat of the car with her arms over her head while he sped through New York traffic, to breathe through the shock and panic that were taking over.

“It’s okay, Y/N,” He said, eyes scanning the street for threats before checking the windows of surrounding buildings for sightlines. “I’m taking you somewhere safe.” 

“We’re not going home?” His chest tightened at the waver in her voice. 

“It’s not secure.” He sped around a corner. “We’re almost there, sweetheart.” 

John gunned it for the final block, screeching to halt on the curb as thunder boomed in the distance. He was out of the car before the valet had taken a step, opening the door and helping Y/N out of the car and shielding her again as they walked up the immaculate marble steps and into the Continental. 

Past the threshold, John relaxed but kept a hand on her lower back as they moved towards the elevator. John guided her inside and pressed a button. The elevator began to rise. 

“Where are we?” She asked, hugging her arms to her chest. 

“The New York Continental.” He said. “No one will hurt you here.” 

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened into the elegant lobby. Though he felt them, John ignored the heads turned in their direction, tugging Y/N closer. She didn’t complain, but rather shrank against his warm, steady frame. At the front desk, Charon glanced at Y/N, but made no comment. He fixed John with his usual calm expression. 

“How may I help you today, Mr. Wick?” 

“Two rooms,” John said, putting a coin down on the counter. “Adjoining.” 

He glanced down at Y/N, heart clenching at the tremor in her hands as she stared wide-eyed around the vast space. John slid a second coin across to Charon. 

“Some clean clothes too, comfortable ones.” He said. 

“I’ll have them sent up right away.” Charon nodded, handing John two keys. “Call if you require anything else.” 

Y/N looked back then, managing a soft smile at the bespectacled man. “Thank you.” 

To John’s surprise, Charon smiled back. “I hope you enjoy your stay, Ms. L/N.” 

The hotel room was bigger than her entire apartment, but she didn’t seem to notice. John stood by the door while she took in the space, itching to hover near her and make sure she was okay and comfortable, to make her feel safe. But he held back. 

She sank down onto the edge of the bed. Y/N looked down and noticed the blood for the first time. Her shirt was splattered, painted a bright crimson. She cried out, half in surprise and half in despair, getting up to look in the mirror. A splash of red dried on her cheek, staining her skin. 

“Oh...oh my God.” She stumbled backwards, scraping at it with her fingernails. 

John surged forward then, unable to stay back. He caught her in his arms, pulling her hands away from her face. 

“Hey, hey.” He said, voice calm. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

She struggled slightly, and he could feel her pulse racing against his fingers. “I need to know if Kathy is okay. I left–I left her there. I need–” 

“We’ll find out. We will. But first–hey, look at me.” She finally met his gaze. “This is not your fault. Repeat that back to me.” 

“But it is–” 

“No.” John’s tone was firm. “This is not your fault.”

“John, I  _ left her there. _ ” 

“The ambulance was on its way. You didn’t shoot that gun, Y/N. This is not your fault.” 

Tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“Say it.” 

“This is not my fault.” She whispered. 

Someone knocked on the door. John brushed away her tears with his thumb, smiling softly at her. 

“Perfect timing. I’m going to get your clothes, I’ll be right back.” He said. 

She nodded. He came back with a stack of soft shirts, sweaters, and sweatpants bundled in his arms. John set them down on the bed. While she changed, he went to the bathroom and got a washcloth, soaking it in warm water. 

“Sit on the bed.” He instructed gently. 

She did as he said. John knelt in front of her, trying to focus on the openness and vulnerability in her face instead of the intense emotion taking over his body he hadn’t felt since...well, he was trying not to think about it. John touched his fingertips to her chin, turning her head as he gently wiped the blood from her face. Y/N closed her eyes at the contact, another stray tear slipping down her face. Again, he brushed it away. He stood and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I’m going to find out how Kathy is doing, okay?” 

Y/N nodded. 

“Get comfy. I’ll be right back.” 

By the time he returned, she’d snuggled up to her chin under the covers. The feeling spreading through him grew stronger. Still, he decided not to dwell on it. John walked back over, sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“She’s alive.” He said. 

Y/N closed her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“She’s still in surgery. They won’t know anything until the morning. Jack will call as soon as she’s out.” 

“Okay.” Y/N said, picking at the seam of the quilt. 

“Are you hungry? I can order some room service.” 

“No, I can’t eat right now.” 

“Okay,” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” 

“Yeah…” She nodded. “I just looked up shock and exhaustion is common afterwards.” 

John chuckled. “Do you ever let anything go by without researching?” 

“Nope. It’s kind of my job.” 

“I know. That’s why you’re so good at it.” 

After a pause, Y/N looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Will you stay with me? I...I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me.” He promised, reaching out and taking her hand. 

Y/N settled in among the pillows. 

“John,” She began, turning his hand over and tracing the lines of his palm. 

A shiver ran down his spine. 

“Yes?” 

“Thank you.” 

“You don’t have to thank me.” 

“I do. You...you just have to protect me. But you...you make me feel safe, too. John, you’re–” She swallowed, eyes shining. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”

His heart sped up, and he felt the emotion he’d been ignoring begin to crawl its way up his throat, making it hard to swallow. Finally, it reached his brain and he realized what it was. He thought back to that day, almost two months earlier, when he’d walked into that meeting with her editors. 

“Okay,” Jack had said. “You’re...you’re clearly the man for the job.” 

“We have to set some ground rules, though.” Paul had interjected. “One, that this... _ arrangement _ doesn’t get in the way of her work.” 

“I assure you, it won’t” 

“And two, that your relationship remains strictly professional. Emotions cloud people’s judgement. You’re here to protect her. Nothing else.” 

“Of course.” John had nodded, finding the idea ridiculous. 

Now, however, as he watched her fall asleep, calm and kind and beautiful in the bed beside him, he understood two very important things:

He loved her. 

And Paul was wrong. 

Emotions didn’t cloud his judgement. They made things incredibly, violently clear. He knew exactly what he needed to do. 

John gently removed his hand from her grasp, pausing long enough to scribble a note for her on the side table before he left. He made a beeline to the Supply Closet and gathered a few tools before heading for the front door. 

Thunder cracked overhead and the rain began to pour in sheets as John Wick left the Continental, ready for the hunt. 

~

The repetitive tone of a phone ringing drew Y/N from her sleep. She searched blearily for her phone, blinking at the brightness of the screen against the dark of the room. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/N, it’s Jack.” 

She sat up. “How is she?” 

“She pulled through.” Jack said. “She hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s out of surgery and on her way to recovery.” 

“Thank God.” Y/N exhaled. “Jack, I am so so sorry.” 

“For what? This isn’t your fault.” 

“John said the same thing…” Y/N bit her lip. “Still, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about us, okay? We’ll be fine. You need to focus on staying safe. I officially relieve you of covering the trial until further notice.” 

“Won’t Paul have something to say about that?” 

“I outrank him.” Jack said. “Just take care of yourself, Y/N.” 

“Okay. You’ll call if there’s any more news about Kathy?” 

“Of course.” Jack said. “Talk to you later kiddo.” 

“Bye.” 

After hanging up, Y/N checked the time. 6:15 a.m. She’d slept for more than twelve hours. Thinking about the night before, she suddenly remembered falling asleep with a certain comforting presence by her side. A presence that was now missing. 

Y/N got out of bed, padding over to the door connecting her room to John’s. She knocked. Nothing. 

“John?” 

Still no response. Y/N opened the door tentatively, only to find the room completely untouched. She walked back into her room and decided against opening the curtains. John had said she was safe here, but...she switched on the light beside the bed, noticing a small scrap of paper on the table. 

_ “I’m sorry I won’t be here when you wake up, but I have some business to take care of. If you need anything, just call down to the front desk. You can also explore the hotel if you want, I meant it when I said no one will hurt you here. Just don’t leave the hotel until I get back. _

_ I’ll see you soon.  _

_ \- J” _

The worry within her subsided somewhat. He was good at his work. She’d seen the photos, but she couldn’t help the nagging anxiety that he was out there fighting to the death. Y/N knew she wouldn’t fully calm down until John came back in one piece. 

_ Just got your note. Please stay safe.  _

She sent the text and got up to shower and get dressed. Before she could waste the day sitting and waiting for a reply, Y/N decided to follow his suggestion and explore a bit. From what she’d seen yesterday and even in her own room, the hotel seemed fancy, spacious, and a worthy distraction from the haunting memories of the day before. 

Y/N wandered down to the lobby, taking in the high ceilings and elegant antique decor. As she walked, she felt that strange itchy sensation on the back of her neck that only comes when you’re being watched. She lowered her gaze from the vaulted ceilings, noticing a slender woman clad entirely in black sitting on a plush red sofa. She followed Y/N with eyes heavily outlined in eyeliner, dissecting her with one look. Y/N moved a little faster, avoiding eye contact. A man a few inches shorter than John, with buzzed blonde hair stood by one of the large windows in a neatly pressed burgundy suit turned away from the view to stare at her. He swirled the dark liquid in his glass, taking a slow sip without taking his eyes off of her. 

John hadn’t said much about the Continental that night in her apartment, but he’d said enough for her to understand that any one of these people could kill her with the flick of a wrist. Y/N stared at the floor, feeling the gazes of several more people on her back as she finally reached the front desk. The tall man in glasses gave her a kindly smile, making her feel a little less like a mouse being eyed by a pride of lions. 

“How may I assist you, Ms. L/N?” 

“Well, first of all, I don’t know your name.” She laughed nervously. 

“Charon.” 

“Charon. It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled. “I was hoping you could point me in the direction of some breakfast.” 

“I think you might enjoy the selection at the lounge downstairs, Ms. L/N.” 

“Thank you, Charon.” 

“My pleasure.”

She smiled again, making a beeline for the elevator and ignoring the stares at her back. Everyone seemed to...know her. 

The elevator dinged and the doors opened onto a lower floor, decorated in deep red and polished black. A few more sharply dressed people sat around, eating, reading, and speaking in hushed tones. One by one, they all turned and looked at her. Gazes tracked from head to foot and back before turning away again. Y/N had never felt so naked in her life. Face burning with embarrassment and confusion, she walked towards what looked like a bar. Breakfast menus, printed in meticulous cursive and bound in leather were propped up on the counter. 

Y/N took a seat and opened on up, busying herself with the options. She was considering abandoning the adventure entirely and escaping back to her room when someone slid into the seat next to her. 

“I quite enjoyed your article, Ms. L/N.” 

Y/N turned, intrigued by the musical tones of an English accent. An older man, wearing an expensive suit and an air of power smiled at her in amusement, tucking a pair of reading glasses into his pocket. 

“Sorry, have we met?” Y/N asked. 

He held out his hand. “Winston. I’m the manager of the Continental.” 

“Oh,” Her eyes widened as she shook his hand. “ _ You’re _ Winston.” 

Winston chuckled. “So he’s told you about me.” 

“I–not much, I mean only that you’d helped him when–and then–” She stammered, trailing off. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for letting me stay here.” 

“Of course. This is a hotel, afterall.” Winston said. “Now, can I buy you some breakfast? I understand you had a...difficult afternoon yesterday.” 

They made pleasant, if slightly banal conversation over some very fancy eggs and toast, until finally Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Winston,” She said, “I...could I ask you something?” 

“Of course, my dear.” 

“Why does everyone here stare at me? I feel like...like they know me.” She said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “And it doesn’t exactly make me feel better to know they’re all world-class assassins.” 

“Well,” Winston dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You’re a bit famous.” 

“Because of the article? Are they…” She looked at him in horror. “Are they after the bounty Kosachenkov put on my head?” 

Winston laughed at that. A full, head back, belly laugh.

“No, my dear, no.” He said, smiling. “After Jonathan started protecting you, that reward became all but meaningless. Only those who are truly desperate would try it. No, they’re all curious to see the woman John Wick not only turned down a job for, but decided to protect. You’re quite the oddity, it would seem.” 

“But I...I didn’t know him. I had no idea he had done that.” Y/N said. 

“Hmmm. Very odd indeed.” Winston hummed. “You know, when I offered him the job, he said no faster than–” 

A small commotion at the door cut him off as they both turned to see what was going on. John Wick himself walked in, Charon close at his heels. John’s hair dripped with rain and blood. His suit was ripped in several places and his shirt looked very similar to how Y/N’s had the night before.

“Mr. Wick, I would prefer if you could refrain from staining the upholstery. I can have clothes sent to your room–” 

“John!” Y/N was on her feet in an instant, rushing to him. 

She gingerly touched his chest, searching for the source of the blood. “You need a doctor! Where are you hurt? We need to–” 

He took her hand in his, stopping her from getting blood on her hands. “I’m fine.” 

“But the blood–” 

“It’s not mine.” He said, smiling slightly. 

“ _ Oh, _ ” She said, realizing. “The sniper.” 

He nodded slowly, watching her reaction carefully. “He was one of Kosachenkov’s.” 

“Jonathan,” Winston interjected. “As lovely as it is to see you, may I please ask that you take your conversation somewhere...less expensive?” 

John huffed slightly, but complied. He asked Charon to send up a new suit before turning and making his exit much less dramatic than his entrance. Y/N fell into step with him, heading back to their rooms. 

“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Y/N asked, looking him over again in the elevator. 

“I’m fine. I promise.” He chuckled. 

“Good.” She nodded as they stepped out onto their floor. “I’m not sure what I’d do if you didn’t come back…” 

“Hey,” He put his hands on her shoulders, sincerity in his deep brown eyes. “I’ll always come back for you.” 

She smiled, reaching up and smoothing the lapel of his jacket. “If you didn’t, I’d have to kill you.” 

He laughed, his hair falling in front of his eyes. Even blood-soaked and sleep-deprived, he managed to be beautiful.  _ Gorgeous _ , her mother would have said. Like he’d done for her the night before, Y/N reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear. She realized all the anxiety was gone now. Giving in to impulse, she let her eyes wander to his lips. When she looked back up, the emotion in his eyes almost knocked her off her feet. 

John squeezed her shoulders gently. “I, uh, I’m going to change and then we should talk.” 


	6. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Again, I apologize for being away so long. Adjusting to life in quarantine has been tough for me, so I decided to take some time away from writing to focus on finishing up at school. My last class was Friday, so now the writing can commence again in earnest! Thank you for sticking with me. :D

Hot water cascaded down, the air clouded with steam rising from the shower. John let the warmth and the steady beat of the water relax him, letting out the tension from his job. He scrubbed away the blood and the grime, careful not to miss a spot. 

Her face flashed in his mind, frightened at the sight of the blood staining his body. He didn’t want her to see him like that, with another man’s blood on his hands. Of course, she’d been worried that it was his own blood. And she’d forgiven him already, absolved him for his past. 

John smiled at that thought. She was so...different. No one, not even the ones who called him friend could overlook his history. No one who knew what he did could move on from the bodies in his wake. They all believed he was something unnatural. A killing machine. Murder in his veins. The Babayaga. 

But Y/N was different. She accepted it all, understanding that it was what he had to do. She saw him for who he was. John Wick, a man. 

He loved her for that. 

A knock sounded on the door connecting Y/N’s room to John’s. 

She hit send on the email she’d been drafting, call out to him. “Come in.” 

“Hey,” He walked in, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt. 

She looked up from her laptop. John’s hair was still wet from his shower, slicked back. He’d changed into a clean suit, this one with a black shirt and a deep purple vest. He’d left the jacket in his room. 

Again, Y/N was struck by his beauty. She wondered what it might be like to run her hands across the silky fabric, helping him get dressed in the mornings. And undressed in the evenings…

“What?” John laughed. “I got something on my face?” 

“No,” Y/N blinked, looking away quickly. “No. I...just spaced out there for a second.” 

John was at her side in a moment, crouching to look at her properly. He put a hand to her cheek, turning her face towards him. 

“Are you alright?” 

Her face grew warm as she had trouble holding his intense gaze. She put her hand over his, pulling it away from her face. She squeezed, giving him a reassuring smile. 

“I’m fine. Really.” She promised. 

“Okay.” He squeezed her hand back before letting go. 

John stood and moved over to the other side of the table, sitting across from her. Y/N shut her laptop, resting her hands on it while she waited for him to speak. 

“So,” John cleared his throat. “Here’s the deal: I need you to stay here until the rest of Kosachenkov’s men are taken care of.” 

Her heart sank. From what her police contacts had told her, coupled with the hours and hours of research she’d done, Y/N knew that the process of dismantling the Kosachenkov mob would take months. Maybe even years. The Continental was nice, and she was incredibly grateful for her safety, but it wasn’t home. 

Y/N tried not to let the disappointment come out in her voice. “Oh.” 

John furrowed his brow, reaching out and taking her hand again. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckle, a gesture of comfort. 

“The police aren’t working as fast as I would like.” He said. 

Y/N laughed at that. “Me neither.” 

He cracked a smile. “But I have contacts in the force. I’m going to...offer them my services. Help them track people down, bring some of them in, that kind of thing.” 

“John…” Y/N frowned. “You don’t need to do that. I can handle being here as long as it takes, I don’t want you putting yourself in danger unnecessarily–” 

“It is necessary.” He said, sincerity written across his face. “My job is to keep you safe. As long as they’re out there, you’re not safe.” 

Y/N sighed. “Okay…” 

“If you need anything while I’m gone, just call down to the front desk. Anything at all, okay? You can go wherever you’d like in the hotel too, of course. There’s the restaurant, you know. There’s also a gym and a pool and...a movie theater, I think. I’ve never been, though.” He said. 

“Actually, take your time tracking these guys down. I think I could be pretty comfortable here...” 

John laughed, shaking his head. “I know you want to go home. I’ll try to be as quick as I can.” 

“Don’t worry about that.” Y/N said. “I need you to be careful. I need you to come back to me.” 

John met her gaze, the emotion in his face nearly knocking her backwards. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but it made her feel dizzy and warm and she knew she was mirroring it right back to him. 

“I will.” He brought her hand slowly up to his mouth, brushing the lightest kiss to her knuckles. “I promised I’d always come back for you, didn’t I?” 

Y/N struggled for a response, grateful to be sitting already, lest her knees buckle completely. John smiled, letting her go and standing again. 

“I’ll be back tonight.” He said. 

“You’re leaving now?” Y/N stood, alarmed. 

“Gotta get started.” 

“But you’ve been up all night. You need rest.” Y/N insisted. 

John squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done a lot more with a lot less sleep.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” Y/N crossed her arms. 

“I know…” John grimaced. “I have to do this. I want to do this.” 

Y/N stepped forward, sliding her arms around his chest. She held him, tucking her head against his chest and listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. John wound his arms around her waist, returning the embrace. 

“Okay.” She mumbled into the soft fabric of his shirt. “But put on a bullet-proof vest.” 

She felt the laugh rumble through his chest. 

“Okay.” 

~

Y/N sat across from John, eating breakfast. They were at a cute little cafe somewhere, a hidden spot tucked away between bigger, sleeker buildings and businesses. She laughed at something he said. Sunlight streamed through the window behind him, setting him aglow. He smiled at her, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. He reached forward across the tiny table and tucked her hair behind her ear. John leaned forward, his gaze tracking from her lips to her eyes and back again. She began to close her eyes, waiting for the kiss. 

Then the glass shattered. 

Blood splattered across her face as John slumped forward, falling across the table. Y/N screamed and screamed and screamed. 

“Y/N.” 

Disoriented, she thrashed, twisting and tangling in the bed sheets as she fought for consciousness. 

“Y/N,” John’s voice cut through her panic. “Y/N look at me.” 

She opened her eyes, shouting his name in desperation and fear. She felt a grip around her wrists, pushing them into the soft material of the mattress. Stuck, Y/N had no choice but to calm her breathing, stilling her erratic movements. Steadily, her vision focused, taking in her surroundings. 

She was in her room at the Continental. In her bed. With John Wick, alive and well, hovering above her. His hair fell around his face, framing the concern etched into his features as he looked down at her. 

“Hey,” He exhaled in relief, releasing her wrists. “There you are.” 

“John,” She rasped, throat sore. “You’re...you’re okay.” 

She sat up, reaching out and touching his face. Y/N ran her fingers over his cheek and the scratch of his beard, testing that he was real. John took her hand gently, pressing it to his chest, over his heart. 

“I’m right here.” 

She crumpled against him. Y/N pressed her forehead to his shoulder, steadying herself on his solid frame. She inhaled the familiar, comforting smell of him. John rubbed her back. 

He whispered into her hair. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“We...we were at a cafe. We were talking. You, um, you made me laugh. Then the window broke and...you fell. Like Kathy. They–.” She took a shaky breath. “They shot you. I–I watched you die.” 

She pressed her face into the soft material of his tee shirt, trying to keep the tears at bay. John ran his hand through her hair, cradling her against him. 

“I’m right here. I’m okay.” He whispered. “It was just a dream.” 

Y/N curled her hands into the soft material of his shirt, holding on with all she had. John smoothed her hair, he rubbed her back in slow circles, and he waited. He held her close and gave her all the time she needed. Y/N tried to focus on his breathing, matching her own breath to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her hands. She focused on the comfort of his presence, his warmth, and his touch until she calmed. 

This wasn’t a dream. She remembered their conversation that morning and him coming back just a few hours ago. They’d had dinner together with Winston in the lounge. She remembered saying goodnight.

Y/N pulled away enough to look at him, feeling the familiar burst of affection in her chest ignited by the sight of his deep brown eyes.

“Okay?” John smiled softly, brushing her hair behind her cheek. 

“Okay.” Y/N nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

John pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling away. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, intending to leave. The instant she lost contact, cold crept through her body. She missed him with a great aching emptiness Y/N knew she shouldn’t feel. She shouldn’t feel so attached to him, so connected. 

And yet. 

“John–” Y/N hated how weak she sounded. 

He stopped and turned, his expression one of pure openness and concern. “Yeah?” 

Y/N looked away, face heating up. She couldn’t ask this of him, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. He was her bodyguard. She was his client. They weren’t...even coming to comfort her was above and beyond the bounds of his job. She couldn’t ask him. 

“No– nothing.” Y/N shook her head. “Nevermind.” 

John tilted his head, taking a step back towards her. “What?” 

“No, it was stupid. I was going to ask– it’s stupid. Just forget it.” Y/N lay down again, turning away from him and pulling the blanket up to her ears. 

“Ask me what?” She heard him closer now, standing beside the bed with a voice as soft as his white tee shirt. 

Y/N scrunched her eyes shut, letting the words out in a rapid stream. “To-stay-with-me-but-I-have-no-right-to-ask-so-I-didn’t-and-it’s-dumb.” 

John put a gentle hand on her shoulder. Y/N turned over, looking up at him with trepidation. 

“You want me to stay.” It wasn’t a question. 

Y/N nodded slowly, hiding her face slightly behind the top of the blanket. 

“Okay.” 

John walked calmly around to the other side of the bed, pulling back the covers. Y/N kept her gaze on the ceiling, feeling the mattress dip as John lay down beside her. His arm brushed against hers. A shiver ran down her spine, but not from the cold. Y/N shifted, moving closer as she turned to face him. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey.” John shifted slightly, moving closer as well. “Do you—um, should I—?”

“Could you—” Y/N looked away, cheeks warm with embarrassment. “It helps when you hug me.” 

“Okay.” John nodded. 

Y/N rolled over as John closed the last few inches of space, wrapping his arms around her. He let her rest her head on one arm while the other encircled her waist. He pressed up against her back, solid and warm. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Yes,” Y/N turned her head to smile at him. “Thank you.” 

“You can rest now,” John said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Y/N covered his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together above her stomach. She closed her eyes. They lay there for a while, but a question still nudged at the back of her mind, keeping her awake. 

“John?” 

“Yeah,” He squeezed her hand. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Why did you do it?” Y/N asked. “Why did you decide to protect me?” 

John sighed, his breath hit the back of her neck, sending a tingle down her spine. 

“It’s hard to explain. I saw it in the news before I got the call– that a young journalist had taken down the Kosachenkov Mafia. I felt...I don’t know how to describe it. I was impressed, definitely. I also felt connected to you somehow. I’ve taken down the Tarasovs and the D’Antonios and others like them, but I did it with guns and blood. I did it out of vengeance. You...you did this with your words and you did it entirely out of a sense of moral duty– for the good of the world. I just...I knew I couldn’t let this be the end for you. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to kill you. I couldn’t let them kill you. I wouldn’t.” John sighed again. “That probably made no sense.” 

Y/N rolled back over, facing him with shining eyes. She propped herself up, leaning against his chest. 

“I don’t know what to say, John. I...no one has ever cared for me the way you do. No one. And I—”

She stopped, choking on the emotion in her throat. Moving completely out of impulse, overcome with affection for this man, Y/N leaned down and kissed his chest, right above his heart. 

Y/N lay down, tucking her head into the crook of his neck as John wrapped his arms around her again. 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” he whispered. 

She knew they would be.


	7. Routine

John had always enjoyed routine. He was a man of structure in his heart, even if his job was a world of surprises. He rose early to walk the dog, read the newspaper, had his coffee and started the day. 

And so the routine of life at the Continental came as an unexpected but pleasant surprise. 

He woke early, called Jimmy to see how his dog was doing without him, said goodbye to Y/N and then went to work. 

He discovered that Y/N, too, was an early riser. She woke before him that second morning, trying to move as slowly and as quietly possible so as not to wake him up. It was cute that she thought it would work. World-class assassins aren’t generally known for being deep sleepers. He’d opened his eyes, watching the intense look of concentration on her face as she tried to silently extricate herself from the blankets. 

“Good morning,” He said. 

John smiled as Y/N froze, nose scrunching in defeat. 

“Sorry,” She frowned. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“Don’t apologize,” John pulled her closer, closing his eyes again. 

She started to laugh, hands pressing against his shoulders. John opened one eye, staring at her suspiciously. 

“What?” 

“I have to pee. That’s why I was trying to get up.” 

“Oh.” John pulled away, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment. 

He turned over onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling, he reminded himself to wait. To control his impulses. His feelings, as strong as they were, had to wait. When this was all over he could tell her. When she was safe, he could ask her on a real date. He just had to– 

He’d been so busy scolding himself, John didn’t notice the mattress dipping as Y/N kneeled beside him. She leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek so fast he almost missed it. John blinked, turning to look at her in surprise. 

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled, pulling away and walking around the bed. 

John sat up. “For what?” 

“Being you.” 

She shut the bathroom door. John fell back against the bed, smiling. He just had to finish the job. And then this could be real. This could be his. 

That hope became part of the routine too. Every day, when Y/N hugged him goodbye or smiled at him while they had dinner; when he came back to find her dancing around the hotel room between writing articles or when she texted him little jokes and pictures to make him smile while he was out working, he hoped. He hoped he was right about the way she looked at him, that it was the same way he looked at her. 

~

“Now, remember to ground down into your back foot. Stability and a good base is the key here.” 

Y/N followed along with the video, mirroring the woman on screen. She stepped back and bent her knee slightly, grounding herself. 

“Now, run through the following combination: take the heel of your palm and strike the bridge of the nose, then use your knee or your foot to kick at the groin. Then step back and get your base again.” The woman demonstrated. “Okay, now try it. Heel, kick, back.”

Y/N struck out against the air, trying the combination. 

“Again. Heel, kick, back. Don’t forget to breathe. Heel, kick, and back.”

Y/N inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. She followed along until the end of the video, stopping only for a bit of water before continuing on to the next one. 

With the days turning into weeks at the Continental, Y/N had to stay sane somehow. As time went by, she fell into a routine: wake up early and see John before he leaves; go for a run in the gym and avoid eye contact with every assassin in sight; meet Winston for breakfast and crosswords; work for a few hours in her room or the lounge; dance break; work some more; and then learn some self-defense for an hour or two; then John would come back sometime in the evening in time to have dinner with her and talk for awhile. 

With every day that passed, John and the police thinned out Kosachenkov’s network and the trial continued to march along. Winston and Y/N even had a bet going about which would end first– the trial, or John’s crusade against the mafia. Either way, the clock continued to tick, and one way or another her time with John would end. 

That thought sent a swirling mix of emotions through her. On one hand, Y/N wanted to go home. She wanted her life to be normal again, without the target on her back. On the other, it meant no more late-night talks, no more secret smiles, no more of this  _ feeling _ , this deep contentment she felt when she looked at him. 

And Y/N didn’t like that thought at all. 

“Now, to break a grip on your wrist. Always, as we’ve covered before, ground yourself. Never forget that stance. Then move the arm that’s held in an arc, going in and up and then around. The second they let go, hit them with the palm heel strike from our last lesson. Then step back in your ready stance again.” 

Y/N breathed into it, running through the movements. She’d channeled most of her conflicting feelings into this– preparing for when it was all over. She’d spent her whole life without a cause to defend herself, and she wasn’t going to risk going into the rest of it unprepared. 

“Alright, again. Twist, hit, and back. Twist, hit, and back. Breathe. Twist, hit, and–” 

“What are you doing?” 

Y/N spun around, ready to use her new-found skills. She relaxed quickly, however, catching sight of John in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, a bemused smile on his face. 

“Hi,” Y/N smiled. “You scared me.” 

“Sorry.” John came further into the room. “Are you learning self-defense?” 

“Trying to.” Y/N shrugged. “I’ve always meant to and I feel like now would be a really good time. You know for after...after this is all over.” 

John nodded, but Y/N could tell he was occupied with his own thoughts. Y/N watched him carefully, taking another swig from her water bottle. 

She closed the laptop, sitting down on the edge of her bed. 

“How’d it go today?” 

“Show me.” John said, shaking himself from his thoughts. 

Y/N smiled, tilting her head. “What?” 

The corners of his mouth ticked upwards, challenge sparking in his eyes. John took off his jacket, laying it on the bed. He held out a hand, beckoning her closer. 

“Show me what you got.” 

“I don’t know…” Y/N laughed, setting aside her water and standing up. “Think you can handle me?” 

“We’ll see.” John chuckled. “Go for it.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Y/N teased, “You’re older than me, so I can only assume your bones are more fragile…” 

“Hey, that’s–” 

While John began to protest, Y/N took the opening. Keeping her hands in a defensive position in front of her face, she kicked out towards his stomach. Her foot never made contact. He caught it easily, holding on and leaving her wobbling. 

“Get out of it.” John said. “The surprise was a smart move, but you gave up your balance. Try to get it back. Use your instincts.” 

“Okay…” Y/N took a breath. 

She dropped, letting gravity help her. John could either let go or drop with her, losing his own stability. He let go. Y/N rolled further away and got to her feet, reassuming her ready position. 

John smiled, unbuttoning the cuffs on his dress shirt and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. Her gaze lingered on his forearms for a moment before Y/N forced herself to focus back on his face. 

“Good. Know how to get out of a choke-hold?” 

“I think so.” Y/N nodded. 

“Want to try? I won’t hurt you.” 

“I know that.” Y/N smiled, moving closer. 

John reached out, putting his hands around her neck as lightly as he could. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay,” He nodded. “Get out of it.” 

Y/N brought her hands up between his wrists, pushing them up and outwards to break his grip. Without even thinking about it, Y/N went for the basic combination, striking towards his nose with the heel of her palm. John ducked out of the way, stepping back. 

Y/N pulled her hand back, eyes wide. “Sorry!” 

John shook his head, smiling. “Don’t apologize.” 

“Building muscle memory, I guess.”

“Seems like it.” John nodded. “Is there anything you want me to teach you? Or something you want to practice with a real person?” 

Y/N thought for a moment. 

“What about if someone grabs me from behind? Or has a weapon on me?” 

John grimaced at the image, but he nodded. He gestured for Y/N to turn around. John moved closer, his chest pressing into her back. 

“May I?” He asked, arms hovering at her sides. 

“Yes.” 

John wrapped his left arm over her chest, holding onto her right shoulder. He raised his right hand, miming a weapon. 

“This one is tricky,” John said, voice low in her ear. 

A shiver ran down her spine. She hoped he didn’t notice. 

“You’re going to want to do two things. First, stomp on my foot or kick my knee as hard as you can. Once I’ve reacted to that, slam your head back and break my nose. Then get the fuck out of there. Probably best to duck and go to your right.” 

“Okay.” Y/N nodded. 

She didn’t move. 

“Try it.”

“What?” Y/N turned, looking back at him in alarm. “No!” 

“You need to practice this.” 

Y/N took another breath before slamming her foot into the ground, aiming for the spot just ahead of his foot. To her relief, John played along, bending his knee and loosening his grip. She threw her head back towards his shoulder instead of his face. John’s right hand moved away from her face and towards his nose as his grip loosened even more. Y/N ducked right and ran, breaking his hold. 

“Good.” John nodded. “Now do it again, but don’t fake it.” 

“No.” Y/N shook her head. “I got it, John. I don’t need to break your nose.” 

John set his jaw. “Y/N. This isn’t a game.” 

“I know that. Did you think I was doing this for fun?” 

“No, of course not.” John sighed. “I just...I need to know you can do this.” 

“I can.” Y/N stepped forward, putting her hands on his shoulders. “I could take you down any day. I was just holding back for the sake of saving your pretty face.” 

John smiled for a moment before his expression grew serious again. He reached up and took Y/N’s hands in his own. 

“What’s up?” She smiled softly, searching his face. 

John took a breath. “I’m taking you home tomorrow.” 

Y/N blinked. She should have felt excited, but instead her heart sank down into the pit of her stomach. 

“They’ve arrested every one of Kosachenkov’s people they could connect to the smuggling conspiracy and the attempt on your life. His facilities have been dismantled. They’re predicting a guilty verdict, and soon.” John looked away. 

“Did you find anything on Ruchka?” 

“‘The Pen?’”

“When I was working on the expose, I found a few mentions of someone they called Ruchka. I think he was someone important Kosachenkov had in his pocket, or an accountant or something. But I couldn’t find much. Did you find any documents or…” 

John shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Y/N smiled. “You’ve done too much already. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Is this Ruchka dangerous? I think I’ve kept you away too long, but if he’s a threat we can–” 

“He’s probably celebrating right now, sitting on whatever spoils are left from the death of the mob. I think it’s okay.” Y/N squeezed his hand. “You’ve done a wonderful job protecting me.” 

“I still am. I’m not going anywhere,” John met her gaze again. “Yet.” 

Y/N nodded, smiling. “Good.” 

Silence fell around them, contentment stretching between the few inches of space between their bodies. Y/N looked up into John’s face, her gaze tracing a familiar path from his brows to his beautiful eyes to his nose to his lips. And back again. She would look at him forever if she could. 

But she couldn’t. 

Y/N squeezed his hands before letting go. She stepped back, moving to open her laptop again. John leaned towards her, chasing the lost contact. 

“Do you think it’ll be safe to go to the courthouse?” Y/N asked, clicking through a few emails. “Paul wants me to cover the end of the trial but Jack doesn’t want to risk it. I’ve gotten them to agree with whatever you think is best.” 

John thought for a moment. 

“Okay,” He sounded reluctant. “But you’re right next to me the whole time.” 

“Absolutely. Rule number one.” 

John smiled. “Rule number one.” 

“Well, all that kicking your ass has made me hungry.” Y/N smiled. “Dinner?” 

“Dinner.” John agreed. 

They left, down to the lounge for one last meal together at the Continental. They laughed and talked and enjoyed each other’s company just as they usually did, but everything felt different. Y/N had the strangest impulse to memorize it. She wanted to remember everything about the night, to keep it and hold it close to her heart. 

Because it felt like the beginning of the end. 


	8. Consciousness

John sat at the kitchen island, drinking his coffee. He shook out the newspaper, intending to flip through and read some of the day’s news. The dog snuffled at his dish, content to have breakfast with his master once again.

No matter John’s intentions, his heart won out in the end as he scanned the pages for one byline in particular. Finding it, John couldn’t help but smile as he began to read. Her tone was more professional, but it was undeniably her voice printed across the page. 

They’d been back home for two days, but things still didn’t feel quite right. For one, the word “home” had shifted since John left. 

The house was the same, of course, and so was the dog but everything seemed off. The place felt too big, too quiet and empty with just him. Home had more than this. 

Home was her music while she danced around the room. Home was waking up just a few steps away from her. Home was wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to his chest. Home was her smile and the sound of her laughter. 

The paper drooped, forgotten in his hands as John allowed himself to imagine what it would be like with her here. He imagined looking up to see her making her way down the spiral staircase, still pajama-clad and sleepy. He imagined her embracing him, pressing a sweet kiss to the center of his back. He imagined turning around and taking her into his arms and never ever letting go. 

His phone buzzing against the countertop drew John from his thoughts. With one look at the caller ID and he’d already accepted the call. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

“Hi.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s nice to hear your voice. I missed you.” 

His chest tightened at her admission, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“I missed you too.” 

Y/N chuckled. “We’re so pathetic. I saw you like fourteen hours ago.” 

“Did you just call to say hello? I’ll be there soon and we can talk in person, you know.” 

“I know. I  _ did _ call for a reason, actually.” She said. “Kosachenkov’s defense team have decided to call him as a witness.” 

“What? That’s–” 

“Unusual. Yeah. I think they might be looking to expose whoever this Ruchka guy is in the hope that it might stall or sway the jury. Anyway, Paul wants me at the courthouse first thing.” 

“I’m on my way.” John stood up, setting his coffee cup in the sink and heading for the door.

“See you soon.” 

~

Y/N turned her gaze away from the window, looking over at John. She studied his profile, his beauty never failing to fascinate her. In the light of morning, Y/N could see a few grey hairs in his beard. She smiled softly, remembering the first night of their arrangement, standing in her kitchen when she’d really looked at him for the first time. 

“What’s up?” John glanced at her, a confused smile on his face. 

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking out at the street ahead of them. 

“I’m sorry I made you come in so early today. Buddy must hate me for stealing you away from him all the time.” 

John shook his head, chuckling. “I’m sure he’ll love you the minute he meets you.” 

“How exactly is that going to happen?” Y/N teased. “Do assassins have a Bring Your Dog to Work Day?” 

“I was thinking something a little different, but yeah, that can be arranged.” 

Y/N’s phone began to ring. She pulled it out of her bag, grimacing at the name on screen. 

“Sorry, I have to take this.” 

“No need to apologize.” John sent her an encouraging smile. 

“Hello?” She picked up.

“Are you at the courthouse?” Paul’s impatient tone came through the speaker. 

“We’re almost there.” 

“Well, hurry. I don’t want you to miss this scoop.” Paul snapped. “And make sure you get good seats, towards the front.” 

“All due respect, Paul, but I sit wherever John says is safest.” 

Her editor sighed in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, the man is a fucking robot. The mafia is basically done for at this point. You’re in no danger.” 

“Again, all due respect, but this isn’t over until Uri Kosachenkov is behind bars. And John isn’t a robot. If you’d taken time to get to know him, you’d know that.” 

Y/N felt John’s gaze on her, but she pretended not to notice. 

“You two have gotten rather close, haven’t you?” 

Y/N hesitated, face heating up. “No, not particularly.” 

Paul hummed, and she could tell he didn’t believe her. 

“I’m almost there, I should go.” Y/N said. “I’ll call you after the first recess.” 

He hung up without saying goodbye. Y/N put her phone away again, squeezing her eyes shut against the irritation prickling within her. 

“I really don’t like that guy.” John said. 

“That makes two of us.” Y/N let out a short laugh. “At least  _ you _ won’t have to work for him that much longer.” 

“Yeah…” John gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. 

Silence settled between them, tinged with unease. Y/N regretted the words immediately, but unsure how to fix it without giving away the truth she’d been hiding for a long time. 

She didn’t have long to dwell on it, though, as John pulled to a stop outside the courthouse. Wordlessly, he got out of the car and walked around to open the door for her. He had his Murder Look on again as he escorted her into the building. 

Y/N took her old seat, towards the back with John standing beside her. He scanned the room, keeping vigilant as Y/N organized her notes. 

A hush fell over the courtroom as the judge called the session to order. Y/N sat up a little straighter, watching in anticipation as Uri Kosachenkov took the stand. 

His lawyer began with the basics, asking his name and age. Then he paused, looking over at the jury for a moment before turning back to Kosachenkov. Y/N held her pen at the ready. 

“In a ledger submitted as evidence in this trial, there was a significant amount of money paid to someone under the name of ‘Ruchka,’ is that correct?” 

“Yes.” 

“And ‘Ruchka’ means ‘pen’ in English, yes?” 

“That is correct.” 

“Could you tell us, sir, was this word used as a codename?” The lawyer put his hands in his pockets. 

“Yes, it was.” 

“For whom?” 

Kosachenkov paused, his eyes searching the courtroom until they landed on Y/N. His grey stare pierced straight through her. His lips curled into a malicious grin, sending a stab of cold through her chest. 

He turned back to the lawyer, opening his mouth to answer when it happened. He’d started to say a name when Y/N’s view was suddenly blocked by the dark fabric of John’s suit as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to the ground. 

In the time that followed, she could only remember the bright flash and the sudden heat that filled the room before everything went black. 

~

Y/N drifted in a sea of dreamless sleep, aimless and detached. Every so often she floated closer to the surface of consciousness, hearing voices and seeing glimpses of the world beyond. 

For a moment, she came up into a room full of dusty clouds and flashing lights. A figure hovered above her, dark and blurry. She heard the deep murmur of a familiar voice, but was unable to make out the words before sinking back down into the heavy darkness. 

Sometime later, Y/N became aware of movement. Her body swung slightly, carried away from something and towards something else. She hurt everywhere. A sharp ache shot through her as her back landed gently onto something soft that smelled like leather. She whimpered against the sensation, hearing the voice again as she fell back into unconsciousness. 

Y/N remained in the depths for a while, floating and waiting. Time stretched and contracted around her, whispering secrets and songs. It was all the voice, deep and soothing and nonsense, wrapped around her. She rose up towards the surface again, reaching for life and straining to hear the voice. 

When she finally woke, Y/N thought she was dead. 

But then if she was dead, it probably wouldn’t hurt this bad. 

Her limbs felt heavy and foreign. Her throat was dry and scratchy and she felt like her mouth had been filled with cotton balls. She blinked, wincing at the bright white light shining into her eyes. Her head pounded like she’d tried to fit an entire marching band inside her skull. 

The light disappeared. While her eyes adjusted, she heard the voice first, different than the one from her dreams. 

“It’s almost certainly a concussion. The lacerations on arms will heal over time, the cuts on her face as well. I didn’t notice any burns, which is lucky considering the news coverage of the scene.” 

Y/N blinked, the round face of a stranger coming into view above her. She had long grey hair pulled severely back, wearing glasses on the end of her nose and wrinkles around her eyes. She reminded Y/N of the caricature of a school marm in old films. 

“I pulled her to the ground as the blast went off.” 

There it was. That was the voice. 

“Good on you, Mr. Wick. Had you both been standing, I’m not certain we’d be having this conversation.” 

“John?” Y/N’s voice came out in a dry rasp. 

The woman moved away, replaced by the man himself, deep brown eyes searching her face. His expression was enough to bring her to tears– a mix of concern, relief, and deep affection. Y/N lifted her arm, reaching for him. 

John didn’t hesitate to take her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back over her palm. 

“I’m here,” He said. “I’m right here.” 

“What–” Her voice cracked, turning into a shallow cough. 

John squeezed her hand, brow furrowed. The other woman returned with a styrofoam cup. She stuck a straw inside before lowering it so Y/N could take a sip. The water was heavenly against her dry throat. 

“Thank you...” Y/N hesitated. 

“Just call me Doc. Everyone does.” The woman smiled. 

“Thank you, Doc.” 

“How do you feel?” John reached up with his other hand, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. 

“My head...and everything hurts. What happened?” 

“A bomb went off in the courtroom.” John explained. “So far they’ve reported ten deaths. Kosachenkov was one of them.” 

“Oh my God.” 

Y/N took in his words for a moment, trying to process the information. While grappling with her questions and fear, she began to remember the moments before it happened. Y/N inhaled sharply, turning to Doc with alarm. 

“Did you get him checked out? He jumped in front of me and needs–” 

“I’m fine.” John cut her off, smoothing her hair down with his hand. 

“Don’t worry, Ms. L/N.” Doc chuckled. “He got away with a few scrapes and bruises. I’ve helped Mr. Wick with much more serious injuries in the past.” 

Y/N began to sit up, propping herself up on her elbows. John leaned closer, pressing a hand to her back for support. 

“Where are we?” 

The room was dark, blinds drawn over large windows. Y/N lay on one side of a large bed, the two lamps on either side providing the only light source. She noticed a small table and a TV. A door off to one side stood ajar, leading to a bathroom. 

“The Continental.” 

Y/N lay back down, closing her eyes for a moment. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. Maybe both. 

“I should leave you two to settle in.” Doc said. “I’m leaving some pain medication for you here on this side table. Take two if you’re in pain, but don’t take more than six in a span of a few hours. And make sure to change the dressings on your cuts. Don’t want infection.” 

Y/N managed a smile. “Thank you again, Doc.” 

“Call if you need me.” Doc nodded, gathering her bag and closing the door behind her. 

Y/N and John sat for a moment in silence. He gazed softly at her, rubbing gentle circles into her skin, a reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere. Y/N surfaced from her thoughts eventually, voicing a question.

“Do you know who the target was?” 

“I was on the phone with a friend of mine with the police before you woke up. They’re reporting that Kosachenkov was the target since he was about to flip on Ruchka when the blast happened. But the bomb was planted somewhere near the front of the viewing area. If they wanted him, why not put it closer?” 

Y/N hummed, echoing his confusion. Suspicions nudged at the back of her mind. 

“Paul said I should sit in the first row. When he called this morning. I told him I would sit wherever you thought I’d be safe.” 

_ What if _ ... _ no.  _ She pushed the thoughts away. 

“I’m glad you did,” John brought her hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Me too.” 

John set her hand down, patting it. “Are you hungry? I can order dinner.” 

Y/N shook her head. The idea of food made her stomach churn. 

“I think I should take a shower.” 

“Okay.” John nodded. “Are you okay to walk?” 

Y/N sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She rose carefully, wincing at the ache in her knees. John hovered beside her, hands ready to catch her. Y/N took a step, and then another without incident. 

“I think I’m good.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “Just...don’t go too far?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

She shut the door behind her, but left it unlocked. Y/N shed her clothes, wincing at the ache incited by her movement. She braced her arm against the wall as she leaned over to turn on the water. Y/N stepped under the steady stream, tilting her head back and just letting the warm water wash over her.

Alone, surrounded by cloudy glass walls and the soft rush of the shower, her thoughts returned. Y/N thought back to a day, months earlier. 

With Kathy by her side, she’d walked into a pitch meeting with Paul. 

_ “I want to run a story on the mafia. I have reason to believe there’s a smuggling ring run out of a taxi service. I have several sources linking it to Uri Kosachenkov.”  _

Paul had straightened up in his chair, clearing his throat. 

_ “Any other conspirators? Anyone we might run into trouble with?”  _

_ “What do you mean?”  _ Kathy asked. 

_ “I mean does he have any...friends in high places? We can handle a fight from below, but anything from above could be the end of the paper.” _

Y/N had furrowed her brow, incredulous.  _ “We have an obligation to print the truth, Paul. The people need to know.”  _

Paul hadn’t responded. He leaned back in his chair, picking up an ornate pen from the holder on his desk, rolling it between his fingers. 

_ “No. I haven’t found any well-known conspirators.” _

_ “Good.”  _ Paul smiled tightly.  _ “This doesn’t run without my go-ahead. I want to see every draft. We can’t take any chances with something like this.”  _

_ “Yes, sir.”  _

Y/N lathered her hands with soap, absently scrubbing the dust and grime from her skin. She barely felt the sting of the soap against her cuts, she was too caught up in the memories. The more she thought, the more they poured in. Like pieces of a puzzle finally coming together. 

_ “Cut this bit about Ruchka.” _ Paul circled the segment with his pen. 

_ “Why?”  _

_ “All you have is a few payments to this account, correct?”  _

_ “Yes. But it could be–”  _

_ “Do you  _ **_know_ ** _ who it is?”  _ Paul sent her a harsh stare. 

_ “No. But–”  _

_ “We don’t print conjecture. Take it out.”  _

Her head pounded and her vision began to swim as the words swirled around and around in her mind. 

_ “I need you to cover the trial.”  _

_ “No one knows the story like you do.” _

_ “How soon can you come back? I want you at the courthouse.”  _

_ “Make sure you get good seats, towards the front.” _

_ “Does he have any friends in high places?”  _

_ Can’t take any chances. Sit towards the front. The bomb was planted somewhere at the front of the seating area. We don’t print conjecture. Friends in high places. Can’t take any chances. Can’t take any chances.  _

She saw Paul at his desk, twirling the pen in his hand as he watched her with careful, guarded eyes. 

Y/N stumbled backwards, head spinning. Her back hit the shower wall with a thud, shaking the glass. Her hands slipped against the soaked wall, searching for purchase as she slid to the floor. 

_ It was him. He did this.  _


	9. Turnabout

Every time John closed his eyes, the scene replayed. He stood in the courtroom, repeating his cycle of vigilance. He checked each exit, each point of vulnerability, and kept a soft focus on the movement of the room. When Kosachenkov smiled at Y/N, John barely noticed. His gaze focused on something else, something he couldn’t quite figure out. 

A motion–a signal. The man sitting in the center of the first row shifted carefully, wrapping his fist around something in his pocket. John didn’t know it was a bomb. He didn’t know what was about to happen. John’s decision was purely one of feeling, of instinct. He didn’t need to think before he’d reached for her. 

Now, however, alone in the quiet hotel room with the muffled sound of the shower running a few feet away, John couldn’t stop thinking. 

He needed to know. 

He needed to know why this happened. He needed to know who did it. He needed to know how to fix it. He needed to fix it. He needed her to be safe and he felt like he was failing. After months of work, he thought maybe it would be over and they could move on to something better, but he was wrong. She could have died today. 

He could have lost her. 

John set that thought aside, instead focusing on laying fresh clothes out on the bed for her. He listened for a moment, and hearing nothing from the bathroom but the continued hiss of water, John decided to change as well. 

His jacket was ruined, covered in dust and torn in several places. As were the pants. He dropped both straight into the trash can. He was in the middle of unbuttoning the singed dress shirt when he heard it. 

A dull thud, followed by the rattling sound of glass wavering. John heard nothing else, no whimper or cry. Still, his heart began to pound. 

“Y/N?” He knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you alright?” 

No response. 

“Y/N, please answer me. Are you alright?” John pressed his palm to the door, panic swelling in his chest. 

Her reply was barely audible. “No.” 

“I’m coming in.” 

Y/N didn’t protest. John seeing her naked was about the last thing on her list of worries in that moment. She held her knees to her chest, curled into a trembling ball on the cold tile floor. 

John moved quickly, unfazed by her state of undress. He turned off the shower first, before crouching down beside her. She knew he was looking at her, but Y/N continued to stare at an invisible point on the wall ahead of her. Dimly, she realized she was crying. With the water from the shower, she hadn’t noticed. 

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” John spoke quietly, grabbing her towel from the peg beside the shower. 

Y/N managed to nod. 

She felt the steady strength of his arms as he wrapped the towel around her shaking form. He lifted her up, out of the steam-smudged glass. He carried her back into the room and set her gently on the bed, resting against the headboard. John grabbed her glass of water and sat on the edge of the bed next to her. She accepted it from him, taking a few careful sips and trying to breathe through the emotion constricting her chest. 

“Thank you,” She whispered. 

“I can...do you need help getting dressed?” 

Y/N shook her head. “I think I can do it. Just shouldn’t stand up.” 

John nodded. He stood up from the bed, handing her the shirt and shorts he’d set out for her. He faced away to provide a little privacy, but remained as close to the bed as he could. Y/N pulled the shirt on over her head and shimmied into the shorts. 

“Okay.” Y/N settled back against the headboard. 

She felt clearer now, away from the hot steam. The longer the realization sat in her mind, the more she could accept it. And the sooner she could figure out what to do. 

John sat down again, reaching up and brushing her wet hair away from her face. 

“What happened?” 

She noticed now that she was the more dressed of the two of them. He must have been changing, she realized. He’d stripped down to his boxers and his dress shirt which had fallen open. She could see the scars that littered his body, markers of his job. Y/N raised her hand, brushing her fingertips against one on his stomach. 

He stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t push her away. 

“I don’t want to be one of the stories.” She whispered. 

“What?” 

Her hand moved higher, tracing a few smaller ones up until she touched another on his shoulder, curved and silver in the low light of the room. 

“Each of these has a story…” She said. 

“Broken bottle in Monaco.” John murmured. 

Y/N touched another, just under his right rib. 

“Knife. New York.” 

Y/N touched every single scar she could see, listening to each story. She looked at him, her hand resting against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He held her gaze, vulnerable and open beneath her touch. 

“I don’t want to be the reason for another scar. I don’t want the story to be ‘a bullet for Y/N.’” 

John covered her hand with his own. 

“It’s my job to–” 

“I wish that it wasn’t!” The tears threatened to return, burning behind her eyes. “I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish I’d left the Kosachenkovs alone.” 

“Don’t say that.” John frowned. “You did the right thing.” 

“At what cost, John? People died today, John. Because of me. Kathy was nearly killed too. And it was all my fault. I can’t–I can’t be the reason you get hurt.” 

“It’s not your fault. The bomb was–” John argued. 

“It was for me. I know it was. It was for me and Kosachenkov because I know who Ruchka is and he can’t let us survive. Except I did and now–” 

“Woah, woah, slow down.” John interrupted. “You know who Ruchka is?” 

“That’s what happened. Just now. I finally fucking put it together. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” Y/N raked a hand through her hair, speaking faster. “It’s Paul. He’s on the payroll and he let me do the article because he knew it would be too suspicious to stop me. But I got close. He knew I was going to figure it out. But the bounty was a good cover, right? Of course the mafia wanted me dead for the article too, and he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty. But then you showed up and Kosachenkov decided to flip and he got desperate so he tried to take us both out. He’s not going to stop, John. He won’t stop until I’m dead and I can’t let you get hurt because of this. I won’t.” 

“I’ll find him.” John stood up, a wild look in his eyes. “I’ll end this now.” 

“No.” Y/N sat up. “He deserves to be locked up. He deserves to rot in a cell for the rest of his life. Death is too easy. We have to...I have to go see him.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Listen to me.” Y/N swung her legs over the side of the bed, facing him. “I don’t have any concrete evidence that he’s Ruchka. If he’s going to go away, I need something. I’ll go back to the office and I’ll confront him. If I record the conversation and get him to confess–” 

“You just said he won’t stop until you’re dead. I’m not letting you anywhere near him.”

“He wouldn’t kill me in the middle of the office. Too many witnesses. We’d have the element of surprise. He’d expect me to run. To hide. He wouldn’t expect a confrontation.” 

“It’s not happening!” John sighed, moving to kneel in front of her, expression deathly serious. “You’re not going. We can figure something else out.” 

“John, this isn’t about me anymore.” Y/N took his face in her hands, gaze soft and sad. “He’s hurt people trying to get to me. I can’t let more people die just because I’m scared.” 

John’s shoulders slumped, the fire in his eyes extinguishing. He took her hands in his, his eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“I can’t–I can’t lose you.” He said, voice heavy with emotion. “All my life, whenever I love something, I lose it. I can’t–no, I won’t lose you too.” 

Y/N froze, eyes wide. All the frustration and fear she’d felt in the last few moments melted, making way for an entirely different emotion. Hope and affection rose in her chest, filling her with anticipation. 

“You love me?” 

John exhaled, a tired smile spreading across his face. 

“Of course I love you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before.” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.” 

Y/N brushed his beautiful dark hair away from his face. “What’s wrong with this?” 

“I wanted...I wanted to wait until this was over, to ask you on a real date.” 

Y/N slid down off the bed, John’s arms moving instinctively around her to support her as she settled in his lap. Y/N watched him carefully, revelling in the deep contentment his words evoked in her. 

“Where would we go on our real date?” She wondered, trailing her hands up his chest. 

John’s breath hitched, but he kept his voice level as he answered. 

“Not here.” Y/N chuckled at that. “Maybe somewhere near my house. There are some nice restaurants in the neighborhood. I hadn’t really thought about the location as much as what we’d do.” 

“What would we do?” She whispered, letting her hands rest against his shoulders. 

“Some of it wouldn’t be too different. We’d talk. You always make me laugh. But I’d be able to tell you how beautiful you are. When you smile...you have no idea how it makes me feel.” 

“I think I might.” Y/N murmured. “What else?” 

“I’d hold your hand. I always want to, you know. Your skin is really soft and I like knowing you’re there. I like feeling you with me.” 

Y/N moved her right hand from his shoulder, taking his left from her waist. She intertwined their fingers, palms pressed together. 

“I’d introduce you to my dog.” 

“Aw, Buddy.” Y/N smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him.” 

“He’d love you.” John brought their intertwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of her palm. “And I’d kiss you.” 

Y/N leaned closer, brushing her nose against his. “On a first date?” 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to wait…” 

“Then don’t.” 

John stared at her for a moment, as if waiting to wake up from a dream and realize none of this had happened. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation as he let go of her hand, sliding it under her hair to the nape of her neck.

John hesitated no longer, closing the distance between them and kissing her. Y/N leaned into him, returning the kiss. His lips were slightly chapped, but she didn’t mind in the least. She was intoxicated with him, his kiss holding such affection and truth and love. 

Y/N pulled away just enough to breathe, smiling. Then her hands were in his hair, pulling him back for another kiss. She felt, more than heard, the growling chuckle in his chest. John tightened his grip around her, pressing their bodies together. 

He was all sturdiness and warmth, hot and hard beneath her. Y/N scratched slightly at his scalp, eliciting another rumbling moan. She smiled into the kiss, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders and onto the floor.

His fingertips slipped under the hem of her tee shirt, brushing against her stomach. He stood, lifting her onto the bed. John pressed Y/N onto her back, propping himself up on his forearms as he kissed her. 

Y/N pushed at his shoulder, getting him to roll over onto his back. She rolled with him, straddling his hips. Y/N leant down, kissing a path along his jaw and neck. When she reached the scar at his shoulder, kissing it gently, John let out a shaky breath. He pulled her away gently, forcing Y/N to look up at him. His eyes dark and his hair mussed from her hands, he tried to steady his breathing. 

“We should stop.” He managed. “I’m still your bodyguard. I shouldn’t–” 

“Take advantage?” Y/N kissed his collarbone, moving to lay beside him. “You’re not, I promise.” 

John played with the ends of her hair, smiling softly. “Turnabout.” 

“What?” Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“That night at your place. When I told you who I was, you gave me a chance to ask you questions. But I decided to save them. I want to ask them now.” 

Y/N smiled, “Okay.” 

“Why do you care about me?” He sighed, trepidation clear in his face. “I’m no better than Paul or Kosachenkov. I’ve done terrible things. And you still care for me. Why?” 

“Well first of all, you’re a thousand times better than they are.” Y/N let her hand rest above his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath her fingertips. “I’ve told you before that you’re a good man, John. You have a kind heart and a good soul and your past does not define you. You chose to protect someone you didn’t know. You chose to put your life on the line for a stranger. Anyone who would do that is eons better than those monsters. You’re a good man, John. I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.” 

John smiled, eyes shining again. He leaned forward, kissing her tenderly. 

“I think I owed you more than one question.” 

“Yeah.” John chuckled. “When this is over, would you want to go on that date?” 

“That’s a waste of a question.” Y/N laughed, resting against his chest. “Of course I would.” 

John dropped his head onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, clearly preparing to ask the next question. Y/N grinned, beating him to it. 

“I love you too, John.” 

His head shot up, looking at her with a beautiful mix of shock and relief. 

“I love you and I want you more than I can say.” She confessed. “Bodyguard or not, the past be damned. I love you, John Wick.” 

John smiled, big and beautiful. He moved lithely, rolling back on top of her and kissing her with all the passion in his body. Y/N closed her eyes, returning his affection fervently. 

~

The next morning, Y/N woke up warm and comfortable. John held tight to her waist, their legs tangled together in the sheets. She felt his breath against her hair as she nuzzled further into the crook of his neck. John shifted, stretching slightly as he came to. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“G’morning.” He mumbled. 

“Good morning.” 

Y/N kissed his throat, pulling back to look at him. She untangled one arm enough to reach up and touch his face. 

“Gorgeous.” She whispered. 

He smiled sheepishly, ducking down to kiss her. 

“Not as gorgeous as you.” John argued. “You stun me.” 

“I won’t argue. We’ll be here all day if I do.” 

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me.” John mused. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, Mr. Wick, but there is a world out there…” Y/N sighed. 

John grew quiet, remembering the gravity of their situation. Y/N brushed her fingers through his hair, trying to think of a plan. John did the same, drawing patterns into her skin with his calloused fingertips. 

After a few minutes of silence, he sighed. 

“If we do this,” He said, “If we go back there, we do it my way.” 

“Okay.” Y/N agreed, kissing his cheek. “Anything to get to that date you promised me.” 

John managed to smile at that, turning his face to kiss her again. 


	10. Confrontation

John paced back and forth, restless as he listened to Y/N talking on the phone. She sat on the bed, putting all her focus into keeping her voice calm. 

“Hi Paul, it’s me…” She took a deep breath. “I’m alright. We were towards the back.”

Y/N winced at the sound of Paul’s voice. John’s heart ached for her. 

“I just got finished seeing a doctor. I’d like to come to the office to talk to you to–” 

She waited, and John could hear the faint murmur of Paul’s harsh voice. John wanted to run to her, to take the phone from her and end the call. 

“No, the office is fine. Kosachenkov is dead now, I’m not in any danger.” She looked up at John, eyes flashing in concern. “Yes...John is with me.” 

John stilled, watching her. 

“Okay. Yeah, we can be there in an hour. See you then. Bye.” 

Y/N hung up, letting her phone drop onto the bed. She pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“I think he knows that I know.” She grimaced. “He told me to bring you with me.”

“I don’t like this.” John frowned, brow furrowed.

Y/N looked up. “I know. But we have to try.” 

Worry swirling in his stomach, John walked over to the bed and knelt down in front of her. He took her hands in his, looking up at her. 

“Let me take care of this.” He pleaded. “Please, I can end this without putting you in danger.” 

Y/N smiled sadly down at him. “Paul needs to be brought to justice. He killed ten people yesterday. Probably more before that. He needs to face the consequences and a jury.” 

As she spoke, Y/N straightened up, holding her chin high. John smiled softly, admiring her unwavering moral backbone. 

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t deserve you.” 

Y/N pulled her hands from his grasp, tugging him up with her as she stood up. John felt affection fill his chest as she brushed his hair away from his face, caressing his cheeks. Y/N looked him right in the eye, her voice soft and serious. 

“Never say that. Never, ever say that.” 

“I love you.” He breathed, hoping the joy he felt at being able to say those words would never go away. 

“I love you too.” Y/N smiled. 

John grasped her hips gently, leaning down to kiss her. She was addictive. John craved her–her touch, her smile, her kiss. When they separated for air, he pulled her to his chest, holding her close. 

“It’s almost over.” She whispered. 

John pulled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Then let’s get ready.” 

~

Neither Y/N nor John said much on their way to the  _ New York Times _ building. Y/N was nervous. Terrified, in fact. She didn’t want to show it in front of John, but Y/N could feel the dread seeping deep into her bones. She kept her hands clasped in front of her to keep them from shaking. 

In the elevator, she reached for John’s hand. He intertwined their fingers, his grip warm and strong. 

“I won’t let him hurt you.” John promised, determination set in his face. 

The elevator dinged, doors opening onto the office floor. Y/N let go of John’s hand, stepping out into the bullpen. 

She hadn’t been there in weeks, and it seemed like an entirely different world. The normally bustling office was completely empty. Not a reporter to be seen or a ringing telephone to be heard. 

John stuck close, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “No witnesses. He’s setting us up.” 

“Ah,” Paul emerged from his office, smiling. “Y/N. John. Right on time. Please, step into my office.” 

Y/N forced her legs to move, propelling herself forward. John stayed right by her side, placing a protective hand on her lower back as they walked into Paul’s office. 

“Where is everyone?” Y/N asked, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Gave them the day off. As you well know, it’s been a frightening time around here.” 

“Yes, indeed.” Y/N pressed her lips together in a forced smile. 

“Would you like a drink?” Paul had never been this polite in the entire time she’d known him. Hell, he’d probably never been this polite in his entire life. 

“No, thank you.” 

“Well, I guess we should get down to business, then.” Paul settled into his desk chair. “Before we get to whatever it was you wanted to discuss, Y/N, I’d like to have a quick word with Mr. Wick.” 

“Of course.” Y/N felt panic swelling in her chest.

“In light of the death of Uri Kosachenkov, I think we can all agree that the threats against Y/N’s life are no longer an issue. I thank you, Mr. Wick, for the work you’ve done to keep her safe. You are now relieved of those responsibilities.” 

John made no response, apart from the subtle flex of his jaw as he clenched his teeth. 

Paul cleared his throat, clearly losing patience. “You may go now, Mr. Wick.” 

“No, sir. I don’t think I will.” 

This was not part of the plan. Y/N glanced at John, seeing the intense anger in his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?” Paul raised an eyebrow. 

“I will not leave until she does.” John said. “Please, don’t let me interrupt your conversation with Ms. L/N.” 

“I would like you to go.” Paul picked up his ornate pen, flicking it lazily between his fingers. “Now.” 

“And I said I won’t.” 

“Okay,” Paul sighed. “I was going to be nice, but–” 

In a flash, he grabbed something from just under the desk and slid across the wooden surface. Paul grabbed Y/N roughly, turning her so his chest was against her back as he held his left arm tightly over her chest. With his right, Paul held a gun to her head, the cold metal pressed against her temple. 

Just a few feet away, John had his own gun drawn and fear in his eyes. 

This  _ really _ wasn’t part of the plan. 

“Paul, please–” 

“Shut up.” The older man hissed. “Just shut up. You’ve said enough. You’ve said far too much for my taste actually.” 

“Let her go.” John growled. 

Paul tightened his grip. Y/N’s heart beat wildly as she tried to control her breathing. She looked at John with wide, frightened eyes. 

“Ah ah ah,” Paul clicked his tongue. “Not so fast there, John. Put your gun down or she dies, right here, right now.” 

John looked at her with a desperate expression. She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Slowly, looking at Paul like he wanted to tear him to shreds, John lowered his gun to the ground. 

“Good.” Paul said. “Now, why did you come here? What are you playing at?” 

“What do you–” 

Paul cocked his gun. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play dumb with me, sweetheart. You’re smart. Smart enough to figure out who I am.” 

“Ruchka.” John said. 

“Oh look, the guard dog has some brain cells too.” Paul spat. “I always hated that fucking name. Uri thought it was funny, his own little joke. Well, look who’s laughing now.” 

“Why?” Y/N whispered. “Why did you do this?” 

“You’re smart enough to figure out the bomb. Desperate times...but you mean the rest of it. Why help the mafia? Did they blackmail me? Did I lose faith in the system? A bit of both at first, I guess. But ultimately? Ultimately, I did it for the money. Your friend John can tell you about that. There’s an awful lot of money in the underworld.” 

“You’re despicable.” Y/N said, anger steadily replacing her fear.

“Maybe so. But you’re about to die, so I’m not quite getting the sense of inferiority you meant to invoke there. You’re smart, kid, but apparently not smart enough to see a trap when it’s right in front of your–” 

Y/N had heard enough. Blood rushed in her ears as anger boiled within her. She refused to let this man hurt her or anyone else anymore.

Moving on instinct, Y/N slammed her heel down onto Paul’s foot, crushing his toes beneath the soft leather of his loafers. He cried out, grip loosening enough for her to slam her head back into his nose. Y/N threw herself forward, breaking his grip entirely. She fell to the floor, bracing herself on her hands and knees. 

John was already in action, rushing Paul and tackling him to the ground. Y/N tore open the top few buttons of her shirt, exposing the wire taped to her chest. 

She pulled it closer to her mouth, shouting into the mic, “We need back-up! Now!” 

John twisted Paul’s wrist until he dropped the gun. With the gun gone, John didn’t hesitate. He pinned the other man to the floor, slamming a punch to his face. And then another. And another. And another and another and another until Y/N could barely see Paul’s face under the blood.

“John,” She stood, “John, stop.” 

John stalled his assault, breathing heavily. Paul’s head lolled to the side, and he began to laugh. The sound was wet and labored, but he continued to smile sadistically. 

“We’re the same, you and I.” He rasped. “We’re both monsters.” 

John pulled his arm back to hit him again, but he stopped. “No, we’re not.” 

The door to the stairway burst open and a team of armed police officers stormed inside. John stood, stepping away from Paul. He moved immediately to Y/N, hovering protectively at her shoulder. The officer in charge hauled Paul to his feet, handcuffing him. 

“Paul Underwood, you are under arrest for the murders of Jacob Tussaunt, Lydia Murdock, Kasey Cooper…” The list continued as Paul was escorted out of the office. 

John turned to her, hands grasping her face as he searched her for signs of injury. 

“Are you alright?” 

Y/N fell against him, gripping the white fabric of his shirt in her fists. His arms encircled her, holding her tight. 

“It’s over.” The emotion of the last few hours caught up to her in a rush, sending tears cascading down her face. “It’s finally over.” 

“Yes.” John murmured, rubbing a hand down her back. “You’re safe now.” 

~

By the time they were both finished giving statements to the police, the sun had begun to set. As they walked to John’s car together, golden light bounced off of the buildings around them. John opened her door for her, but Y/N didn’t get in right away. 

Instead, she looked around, enjoying the beautiful light all around them. She breathed in a deep breath and looked at John. He watched her, smiling softly. 

“You are so beautiful.” 

Her cheeks warmed up at that. Y/N pushed herself up on the top of the car door, leaning over to kiss him quickly. She pulled away before he could deepen it, ducking into the car. John shut the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and getting in. 

“So,” John turned on the engine and set his hands on the wheel. “Should I take you home?”

Y/N hummed thoughtfully. “Sure, but I want to go to the home that has Buddy in it. I think it’s about time I met him.”

“Okay.” John smiled to himself, pulling out onto the street. 

The drive across the river took a bit longer than usual, since they hit rush hour, but Y/N didn’t mind. John turned on the radio and they enjoyed the music whenever there was a lull in their conversation. If the traffic slowed to a crawl, John would reach over and take her hand. 

By the time John pulled into his driveway, Y/N almost didn’t want to leave the car. But then she saw the house. 

It was beautiful. Big and modern, all glass and crisp white paint. Y/N followed John eagerly to the front door. He unlocked it and held it open for her. She’d only made it a few steps inside when she heard the telltale click of nails on the wood floor. 

A dark-haired pitbull came skidding around the corner, tongue hanging out of his mouth. He halted in front of the newcomer, barking once in greeting. Y/N crouched down in front of him, offering her hand. The dog snuffled at her for a moment before deeming her acceptable and giving her a cheek a huge lick. 

Y/N laughed, reaching forward to scratch behind his ears. “Hello to you too. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

His tail wagged even faster when he caught sight of John standing behind her. John bent down, patting the dog’s head. 

“Hey, Buddy.” 

John straightened up again and Y/N stood with him, ready to explore more of the house. John led her down a hallway, dropping his keys into a little bowl. The place was enormous.

“You have a beautiful home.” Y/N complimented, standing in his large kitchen. 

“Thank you.” John grabbed two glasses from a cabinet and then a bottle of wine. 

He handed one glass to her, leaning against the counter. Y/N looked around for another moment before feeling his gaze on her. She smiled, feeling the familiar flutter in her stomach at the expression of love and desire on his face. Y/N moved closer, setting her glass down on the counter behind John. 

She trailed her hands up his chest, letting them rest on his shoulders. Y/N smiled, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. 

John leaned forward, kissing her softly. He put his own glass down, leaving both hands free to touch her. His left hand fell to her waist while his right cradled the back of her head. Y/N melted into him, still struggling to believe that she could feel so much happiness just from being in the arms of another person. 

They spent several minutes like that, kissing in his kitchen, until John pulled back. He just stared at her for a moment, tracing her face with his gaze. 

“What?” Y/N laughed, feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his stare. 

“I just...I love you. I can’t quite believe this is real.” 

Y/N bit her lip, holding back her smile. “Me neither.” 

“Do you want to order some pizza?” John slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, tracing patterns onto her stomach. “I still want to take you on that date, but it’s been a long day. Why don’t we stay in? We can watch a movie.” 

Y/N nodded. “I’d like that.” 

“Good.” John kissed her again

He pulled away far faster than she would have liked, leaving her to lean after him, chasing his touch. John smiled, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“I’ll go order it. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her hip, moving away to find his phone. “Make yourself at home.” 

Y/N picked up her wine and padded out of the kitchen and into the living room. Buddy perked up from his place on the sofa, tail thumping against the cushions. Y/N reached over the back of the sofa to scratch under his collar for a moment before moving over to the big windows on the other side of the room. 

Apparently the beauty of John’s home extended beyond just the house. Even in the dim light of early evening, Y/N could make out the long stretch of property. Dotted with trees and ending in what appeared to be a lake, she couldn’t help but want to explore it later on in daylight. 

Y/N inhaled sharply, startled slightly as a pair of arms encircled her from behind. 

“Sorry,” John chuckled, kissing her neck gently. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s okay.” Y/N exhaled, her heart rate already calming down. “I was just enjoying the view.” 

John hummed, his lips tracing a path from her neck to her jaw. When they hit the point just under her ear, her eyes fluttered closed and her breath escaped in a shaking gasp. 

“You know,” She managed. “I haven’t seen upstairs yet.” 

“The food won’t be here for a while.” John mused. “We should have time for a tour.” 

“An extensive one, I hope.” 

“Certainly.” 

John took her hand, leading her towards the spiral staircase. Y/N followed him up to the second floor, anticipation growing with each step. At the top, John paused. He let go of her hand, stepping back and just looking at her. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms self-consciously. “You’re staring again.” 

“I know.” John moved closer again, taking her face in his hands. “I like seeing you in my house. It feels right.” 

“You know,” Y/N smiled up at him. “I feel safe when I’m with you. But I’ve just realized it’s more than that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’m home when I’m with you.” 

The look that came across his face made her think she’d hung the moon. John leaned down, kissing her again. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

The upstairs tour stopped after the first room, which happened to be the bedroom. Y/N didn’t care though, she knew she’d have plenty of time for John to show her the rest.


	11. The End

The newspaper, bundled with a rubber band, hit the doorstep and bounced, rolling down over the front steps and stopping on the walkway. 

The door opened a few minutes later as Buddy dashed out into the front yard. While the dog did his business and inspected the various smells of the lawn, John picked up the paper. After getting in late the night before after a job, John had slept in, saving Buddy’s walk for later in the day. Now, he needed coffee. 

John let out a low whistle, calling Buddy back inside. The dog happily obeyed, bounding back inside and towards the kitchen. John followed, smiling softly. It felt good to be home. 

He turned on the coffee pot and then filled the kettle, setting it on the stove to boil. While he waited, John opened up the paper. He skipped most of the front page, as was his habit, searching for one byline in particular. The other articles could wait. John read, pride and affection swelling in his chest. 

After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle as the water came to a boil. John set the paper down, moving to the stove and turning off the burner. He grabbed two mugs from the cabinet, one a simple white ceramic and the other of the same model but with a collage of vintage newspapers printed on it. He poured coffee into the white mug and dropped a tea bag into the other before adding the hot water. 

Just as he set the kettle down again, arms encircled his waist. He felt her pressing against his back, sighing gently as she hugged him. 

“I was about to bring you your tea.” 

“Did I surprise you?” Her voice was muffled by the soft material of his tee shirt. 

He’d heard her coming, of course. No one snuck up on John Wick. Still, he couldn’t help but smile, turning around and wrapping his arms around her. Y/N set her head on his shoulder, nuzzling sleepily into the crook of his neck. 

“You should still be in bed.” John mused, kissing the side of her head. 

“You weren’t there, so I came to find you.” She lifted her head, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. “And breakfast.”

Y/N started to pull away, but John tightened his grip. He leaned down, kissing her more deeply. She didn’t seem to mind, bringing her hands up to grip his hair as she kissed back. John flipped their positions, pressing her into the counter. Kissing her again, he blindly pushed the forgotten mugs out of the way so he could lift Y/N up to sit on the granite surface. 

Y/N laughed lightly, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss. John pressed closer, standing between her legs as he moved his attention to her jaw and the column of her throat. 

“I missed you,” She breathed, and pride flared in John’s chest at the effect he had on her.

John’s hand brushed gently down her side, moving to hold the small of her back. He pulled her closer, chest to chest. Y/N gazed at him, pajama-clad, her hair mussed from sleep and kiss-swollen lips. 

“You’re so beautiful.” John whispered, fingertips brushing her cheek. 

Y/N smiled, reaching up and pushing his hair out of his face. “I love you, John Wick.” 

Her words broke his trance, sending him forward again with a deep kiss. 

“I love you.” He murmured against her lips. “God, I love you so much.” 

From the floor, a short bark interrupted them. John looked down to find Buddy sitting next to his legs, looking up at them with his head tilted and eyes wide. 

“Good morning,” Y/N cooed, scooting off of the counter. 

Reluctantly, John let go, watching as she crouched down to greet their pet. Buddy’s tail started wagging immediately and he gave her a big lick on the cheek. Y/N laughed, patting the dog lovingly on the head. 

“You probably need some breakfast too, huh, Buddy?” 

John felt colder as Y/N moved away to grab Buddy’s food from its drawer and filled his bowl. With the dog sufficiently distracted by devouring his breakfast, John grasped her waist once more, burying his nose in her hair. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, settling into the embrace. 

“And what do you want for breakfast? Eggs? Pancakes?” Y/N asked. 

“I’d rather have you.” 

Y/N gasped, slapping him playfully on the arm. John smirked, shrugging. 

“What? It’s the truth.” 

“Well, I’m flattered,” Y/N laughed, kissing his cheek. “But I’m actually hungry.” 

“I suppose pancakes will do, then.” John said. “Go sit and drink your tea, I’ll cook.” 

“You sure? I can–” 

John nudged her towards the table, patting her bottom. “I want to take care of you.” 

“When you put it like that…” 

John chuckled, gathering the needed ingredients. While he mixed the batter and poured the pancakes, they talked about his job and the story she was working on. They ate in companionable silence, stealing bites from each other’s plates and sharing syrup-flavored kisses. 

John brought her hand up, kissing the back of her palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A bazillion thanks to my ever-amazing beta reader, Nyvera! Love you! 
> 
> Thanks as well to you all for reading! Please feel free to comment below with your thoughts, I love to read them :D


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